If I Fall
by debronze
Summary: "Mm, there are many ways I could answer that question, Dick, in fact there are many different answers…some of which you'll find you already know. But I'll just say this:" And suddenly the man's fingers found their way beneath the boy's chin, lifting it in a way that was not forced, but simply encouraged. "You're my little bird, and no one else is allowed to kill you but me." SLASH.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: So it has been forever since I have written for FanFiction, and recently I've been inspired to do a Slade x Nightwing story! Yes, there will be slash, and yes I will be using the 'M' rating to its full extent. Please be aware of this and take it as a warning if you are not comfortable with those things! In my story, it has been a year since robin became Nightwing, and I mix the elements of comic book Deathstroke and Teen Titans with the television show. With that being said, enjoy!**

**UPDATE: As of 1/18/15, these prologue chapters will be combine into two, as well as 'remastered' in a sense. **

**Summary: Nightwing awakes prisoner next to the man who has haunted him for years: Slade Wilson. They are forced to work together to get out of their situation, and all the while Nightwing must accept some things that may just break the bird completely.**

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><p><span>Prologue<span>

The sound of a whistle blowing from afar had stirred Dick into a light trance, his senses slowly coming back to him. His eyes felt heavy, his body limp but the pounding of aching muscles continued to wake his still being. Distorted voices and sounds filled his head, a crack, a gunshot, another loud whistle this time much clearer. Nightwing let out a weak whimper, feeling his voice lost and his mind hazy. Everything hurt, he couldn't move, had he been bound? It was hard to say, but what he did know was that he was moving, and fast. Another whistle and Dick let out another whimper. He was on a train, by the speed and breeze blowing through his thick and greasy hair, he could tell it was a crate. By the humid wind and thick smell of trees, he knew he was no longer in the States, or at least, not in Blüdhaven, and by the throbbing and thick fog within his mind, he knew he had a minor concussion.

All with his eyes closed and his arms bound.

It took all of his strength just to open his bright blue hues that feared the strong sun shining against his face. His revealed face. Dick Grayson had known no enemies, and that fear of his anonymity gone forced him to wake up completely, fighting the burning of his now sensitive eyes and looking around the large crate where masked men surrounded him.

"Well look at _that_, the bird is awake. Welcome, lad. You were just going to miss the fun." The accent was Australian, and as his eyes began to focus, he could see that the men wore cheap black ski masks, none of them showing any signs of superiority or training. Of course, he couldn't presume, nor let his guard down considering his situation. No leader it seemed, besides the man who spoke, twirling a knife in his hand before approaching another hostage. Dick had quickly reassessed his surroundings and being as he saw the figure, at this point nearly certain that he was dreaming, for the familiar black and orange uniform seemed only to haunt his mind anymore.

"No…" he breathed, but could hardly hear himself mutter the word. A sick feeling filled him, and he wanted nothing more in that moment then to close his eyes and wake up.

"Your little friend has finally joined us, _Deathstroke_. We all know how much you love an _audience_." When the man stepped out of the way, Dick could see clearly the familiar and haunting mask, unable to tear his gaze away. But how? Why were they there? Was this some sort of trick? A test? Something sank in the pit of his stomach when the assassin's cold grey eye met the bright blue ones. It wasn't a dream. The mercenary was never losing in his dreams. But that didn't stop Nightwing from praying internally, praying it was not this killer who was now seeing his true identity. And when the masked man leaned down to remove Deathstroke's own mask, a twist of satisfaction and guilt rose within the young man.

Revealed was a handsome yet cold face, thick hair as white as snow with a goatee to match. A thick scar traveled from his forehead to his jaw, across his covered eye. Dick's mind should have been focused on any slip of names, on his surroundings, on anything else but all he could do was stare at the man who had always been just a mystery. Just a mask. A mask that had driven its way between himself and his ex-teammates.

"You're not a very smart man,_ are_ you?" It was the assassin alright. Dick knew that voice anywhere, and he could remember long ago as a Titan that same voice mocking him, teasing him, torturing him. Dick still couldn't find himself able to tear his eyes away from the man, watching his mannerisms, trying to see everything he had always hidden beneath the black and orange.

"I'd say capturing the 'world's greatest assassin' is more _impressive_ than smart. Besides," the knife was sent into the man's shoulder, and Dick watched in fear as he hardly made a sound, gritting his teeth and watching the veins in his neck surface. "I'm smart enough to figure out that your healing factors won't help when there's no way for the wound to _close_." And that's when Nightwing saw it, the other sharp objects sticking into Deathstroke, his uniform thick with blood and pervading the air around them. It made the boy sick, and as he was finally able to tear his eyes away, he looked to his own body, tied up and still in uniform, despite the tears and rips into the expensive material.

"It's no _fun_ when you don't scream." The man mocked with amusement, and for a moment Dick thought of the Joker, but there was no way he was behind this, then again, the clown was as crazy as he was unpredictable.

"Then again, we always have your _bird_, don't we? His screams were certainly sufficient before." The man stalked towards him, leaving Nightwing to look up, eyes wide with fear. Screams? Before? His body did hurt...had he been tortured? There was no way for him to know, not with his mind's ache distracting him from the rest of his body that was nearly numb due to the tight ropes around him.

"Who...who _are_ you?!" His throat was dry, his voice weak, and still he stared up at the man, trying his best to be as strong as he would have been with his mask on.

"Mm, don't remember, do ya? Well that's no fun." Dick felt worthless then, weak, and for a moment he wondered if this was it. If this was his fate to die next to his greatest enemy. When his blue eyes shifted to land on the assassin, his heart skipped a beat to see the man with the handle of a knife in his mouth, the blade dripping with his blood. When their eyes locked, and the assassin gave him a small nod, Dick needed nothing more. No explanations, no uncertainties. There was a small trust in that moment, although it had been pulled from the desperation from their current predicament.

"No fun? Was I _tied up_ when you beat me? Afraid to cut the ropes?" He wheezed, knowing he would have to endure a little more to give Deathstroke the time. Never in his wildest dreams would he be helping the assassin, especially in such dire circumstances. But that was it, the situation was dire and he needed to get out _however_ he could. He would figure out the rest, later.

"Hmph, I see Slade's cheek has worn off on you. Pity. You've got quite the _smile_, Dick." A hard blow met with his jaw, forcing the boy to spit up a mixture of saliva and blood. He didn't dare look at Slade who he hoped didn't hear his name. But what was the point now? His face had been revealed, and if they both made it out alive, that was only just another nightmare to come.

"Is that...that _all_ you got?" Dick forced a smile, unknowing what he was doing, but all he knew was that he had to survive. He had to figure this all out, he had to know what had happened. And if it meant being beaten to an ounce of his life, so be it.

With that, another blow was delivered. Over and over. But the boy had taken punches like this before. It had been part of his training, and although his whole body and mind screamed in pain, he kept it going. More blood trickled out of his mouth, his flesh swelling and bruising, his hair beginning to dampen with blood. As sick as the thought seemed, the idea that it wasn't Deathstroke behind the kicks and punches had actually made it bearable. It wasn't until the man kicked him in the ribs, which had for some reason crippled his body in unimaginable pain and forced him onto his back with a shout of agony. Something was broken.

And before he could do anything else, he was hoisted up and thrown against the wall of the crate, cringing at the pain and the snickers of the men behind them. It was then that the sound of ripping flesh sounded in Dick's ears, forcing him to look over his shoulder to see a very angry Slade sticking a knife through the mouth of one of them. What happened after that was a blur, quite literally. Deathstroke moved effortlessly around the cabin, opening throats, twisting and breaking limbs, kicking men onto the track and stealing a gun once he had gotten the chance. As he worked to clear them of their captors, Dick found the man who had been speaking and beating on him, gurgling blood and clutching his chest.

"How do you know me?" Dick asked him, crawling against the pain until he was over the bleeding man, his chest heaving with all of the sudden adrenaline. "How do you know my name?!" He shouted desperately, feeling his eyes cloud up before a strong arm wrapped around his middle, hoisting him over the large shoulder of Slade who shot the man one last time in the head.

"No! No! I wasn't finished! I can't- let me go!" the boy shouted desperately, the scene that had quickly happened before his eyes no longer processing in his head.

"You'll get your answers soon enough." He heard the man say before he leapt off of the train, landing on the thick gravel that slid them down into the woods. Slade took off in a sprint, still carrying the bound boy who noticed the weapons still lodged into the assassin's body. He had half a mind to lodge them deeper, to stop the man, to at least force him to drop his body.

But he was weak, he could hardly breathe against the pain that blanketed him, and hardly see through his blurry eyes. It had felt like ions before they finally stopped, however, and Slade dropped to his knees and set the Boy Wonder down before moving away. Picking up his head that was thick with an uncomfortable fog, he watched the mercenary move to a small stream, dipping his hands into the water and washing it over his face.

"You're just...going to leave me here?" Dick grunted, squirming against the tight ropes that proved futile. He then watched the killer pull one of the knives' from his back turning around and leaning down to cut the rope with the bloodstained blade, a sight that forced Nightwing to gape, expecting a different outcome.

With the ropes now cut and resting in the dirt, Dick forced himself to sit up after some time, his body trembling slightly, a sick wave of nausea sweeping over him at the realization of his current state. He had been kidnapped, it seemed, tortured, his identity revealed, and all next to the one man he hated most. But he was not a foolish boy, there was no time to complain, to cry, to shout at the man or even at himself. There was no feeling bad for himself either, and so with that in mind, his attention shifted to Deathstroke who was still occupied with the water.

Slade wasn't one to keep his mouth shut, at least in Robin's experience, yet here they were, sitting away from each other in silence. Nightwing began to desperately stretch his limbs, all the while watching Slade remove the weapons from his body as if they were nothing but splinters.

"You'll _die _if you do that. Bleed out and we don't have-." But the man was quick to cut him off.

"_I'll heal_." Dick set his jaw at that. _I'll gladly watch you drop dead, _the boy thought. But there was a small voice inside him that was sure to remind him who had gotten him off of the train. Perhaps the man would have to be trusted for now, but it was unclear as he may very well be in even more danger by the assassin's side.

"I don't know where we are, _why_ I'm with you, or who the hell took us but somehow this is _your_ fault. _You_ did this. They know my secret identity. _You_ know- my face- I want answers, _Slade_!" Dick suddenly shouted, growing strength back in his nerve more than anything as his thoughts began eating at his unclear mind.

"_You're_ not in a position to make demands of me, _Dick_." Slade hissed his name, a glint of satisfaction in his dark eye. He had finished pulling out the last blade, tossing it into the dirt before rising to his feet. Dick sat up, his eyes narrowed as the man walked towards him, kneeling in front of him as if to study every feature on his face. Nightwing did the same, his gut churning all the while as he tried his best not to tremble or show any sign of pain in front of the man.

"_Dick Grayson_." He then said. "You know, the photos are really nothing like the_ real thing_ are they?" Slade smirked, the same smirk Robin had imagined he hid beneath his mask every so often. But Dick's eyes grew wide, his lips parted.

"You...you _knew_? The whole time?" Slade's smirk quickly faded.

"I'm offended you think me so _daft_. I, on the other hand, was sure that _Bruce_ would have told you about me." That made the boy sick. He knew of Batman, and yet he never once revealed or used this information against him. It didn't make sense, and that's what pained the boy the most in that moment. He had been vulnerable the whole time.

"I didn't _need_ his help." Nightwing replied, looking away from the assassin's hard face. Even at his worst, nothing boiled more than the idea of Batman's help. Slade scoffed.

"Of course not. Well as much as I'd _love_ to catch up with my favorite bird, I'm afraid _we_ have work to do." Slade rose then as if the bloodied knives sitting in the dirt had been pulled out of Nightwing. It had certainly felt that way for _him._

"_Work_? What do you- I want_ answers _Slade. I wake up in a train beaten and tied up next to_ you_, I deserve an explanation considering you seem to know what's going on."

"Fair enough, but we have no time to waste. Can you walk?" There was a fear then that if Dick had not been able to get on his feet, Slade would leave him for dead. And so as the boy struggled to pick himself up, he growled in frustration when his body fought against his will. When Slade surprisingly offered his hand, Dick pushed it away.

"No. I can do this." And so he fought every muscle in his body and followed behind Slade, clutching his side and wheezing heavily. Ribs broken, harsh blows to his back, and never mind the short beating he had just endured not he train.

"_Amanda Waller_, does that ring any bells, Dick?" Nightwing wheezed, glaring at Slade as they began walking through the forrest. It had occurred to the boy that Deahtstroke seemed to know exactly where he was going. That felt uneasy, but still he said nothing until his name sounded again.

"_Don't _call me that. Don't say my name, _ever_." The man disregarded his words and shrugged slightly.

"I'll take that as a '_yes'_. She runs Task Force X, more commonly known as Suicide Squad, a little gang she paid me to be on. Surely you've heard of them. Well, unlike the other members, they spared me the whole micro-bomb in the neck and when I had the opportunity to change my little contract with them on a mission, I took it." Nightwing grit his teeth.

"You turned against them." Dick put together quickly. "And now they want revenge on you. I _knew_ this was your fault." Dick tripped on the last word, feeling his face grow hot in hopes that Slade didn't see his weakness.

"Not exactly. Amanda knows not to play with_ fire_, but I can't say the same for Captain Boomerang. He didn't take kindly to my betrayal. That was his men. This is_ his _territory." Dick had heard of that name before, though the villain had never posed a threat in the past.

"So where do _I_ come into all of this?" Dick asked, trying to stand straight but failing hopelessly.

"Well, you don't, not _really_. He must have mistaken you for someone I care about." Slade's tone was flat despite the words sounding utterly ridiculous to Dick.

"How is that _possible_?" Slade narrowed his eye at that.

"What _is_ the last thing you remember?" when Dick didn't answer, Slade stopped and turned around to see the boy clutching to a tree, wheezing and trying to keep himself up.

"I… don't know." Dick finally answered, trying to think back to a mix of scenes playing his mind, when a strong hand moved around his waist. The movement made him flinch as it was unexpected, the man's hand rested gently over his hip, as well as lifting the weight off of his feet to make easier for him to walk. His other arm was thrown around the assassin's broad shoulders. Dick could smell the stained blood that stirred his stomach, and just as well he could smell something else. A familiar scent, one he couldn't seem to forget when the two fought against each other. He wanted to tear away from the man, to push through the pain rather than letting the assassin touch him, but he couldn't deny that the help was…well…better. "I was leaving Blüdhaven...I was going to Jump City." It was blurry but memorable. He was going to see Starfire, he suddenly remembered, hoping more would return instantly, but a wall was hit.

"Hm. Well perhaps you had some _unwanted_ guests waiting for you, as I did. It's hard to say." Deathstroke explained, but the words had meant nothing to Nightwing as he knew he could not be trusted, even though he had helped him.

Dick scoffed then, dropping his chin and staring at the ground they continued to trek. "Now I remember why I_ left_ that city in the first place."

Slade chuckled.

"The lack of criminal creativity?" The man replied sarcastically.

"No..._you_."

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><p>Dick Grayson had no idea how they had made it out of the forrest, how he had managed to stay as conscious as he did, or how Slade was able to survive all of his wounds. For now it didn't matter too much, not when everything felt so peaceful. He was on his back, on something soft, the air around him was cool and relaxing. He didn't want to open his eyes, and yet he was sure that if he did he would awake to everything simply being a dream. But as his body began to wake, as well as his throbbing injuries, he knew that would not be the case.<p>

It didn't take his detective skills to figure out he was right. As soon as the sound of a door closing had reached his ears, he knew then and there that he was somewhere unfamiliar. The scent of the bed was not his, nor was the small room he had determined was not his own. The door sounded to close. Reluctant to open his bright blue eyes, he finally gave in, staring at a cream colored ceiling where a smoke alarm was directly above him. Sitting up, he let out a yelp that was quick to wake him up, his hand finding his side where he could feel the swollen flesh. Squeezing his eyes closed, he fought the nausea that stirred from the pain, trying to file through his memories; how could he not remember what happened to him?

"I can't imagine you're in _that_ much pain, Nightwing." The familiar and dark voice crept up his spine and forced his eyes open. Lifting his chin, he watched a half-naked Deathstroke moving to stand in front of a mirror. Dick was speechless, quickly forgetting his company as his eyes roamed over the tall and broad form of his enemy. Deep scars scattered over his muscular torso, stopping where only the pants of his uniform covered him. There had been no sign of the knife wounds from before. How was it possible? He was combing his seemingly wet hair, and it didn't take long to figure out that they were in a hotel. Slade had just taken a shower, as if nothing was happening. "_I've_ broken your ribs before, what's so different now?"

Dick growled at the thought, at himself, for being in this situation. "They're fine." he lied, glaring at the man through the mirror. "Where are we?"

"A nice little hotel in Australia." Dick wasn't surprised at the vague explanation, as he would find out for himself later. "I figured you needed some time before we_ confront_ our friend." That forced the boy to look down at himself, realizing he was shirtless as well, and the minor lacerations upon his flesh were tended to. That made him angrier. The man seemingly helped him yet again.

"He's _your _friend. _I_ shouldn't be here. I have nothing to do with this." Dick fell back into the pillows and folded his arms, glaring at the man's back, still trying to find any sign of markings from the earlier wounds.

"Do as you like, then. Though I am a bit disappointed, _Nightwing_. You get captured, tortured, and you don't feel an ounce of anger? No _lust_ for revenge?" Slade scoffed and continued combing his hair.

"I don't care about revenge. I'm not like _you." _Slade said nothing at that, but Dick could see the amusement on his face. Secretly, he did want to find who had done this to him. He wanted to take down the Boomerang, to find out why he knew his identity, and why he had any part in this. But he did not want to grant Slade the satisfaction…he couldn't work beside Deathstroke. All the while, as Dick was lost in his thoughts, his eyes had been burning into the face of the mysterious man, something that did not go unnoticed.

"It's _rude_ to stare." Dick felt himself blush as the man caught his gaze through the mirror, still thinking about the man beneath the mask, and who it had been all this time. "Not what you were expecting?" Slade then asked as if he had read the boy's mind. Dick had imagined hundreds of faces, hundreds of voices, of smirks and growls. None of them were his.

"I don't know _what _I expected. After a while, it was just the mask I saw. Forgot there was _anyone_ beneath it." Slade turned around at that, his bare chest in view, leaving Nightwing to study the scars and muscles rippling beneath his skin ever so subtly. Part of him searched for any damage _he _might have inflicted on the man over the years. But it didn't seem so.

"There are some who would still argue that there_ isn't_." He replied with a smirk. Dick narrowed his eyes then, sitting up in the bed once more, this time carefully, unable to relax so close to the man who had tormented him and his friends for so long.

"I don't get you, _Slade_. You spent years trying to kill my friends and I, you wanted nothing but destruction, and yet, all this time, you _knew_ who I was…who _they _were. You've had every chance to off me, to leave me, now you're _helping_ me, asking me to help you take down _your _enemy-." That had been on his mind as well. The man made his life a living hell, yet the way he helped him on the train, in the forrest…even now…it didn't make sense.

"_Asking_ you? Dear boy, I simply assumed you'd do what _anyone_ would do. And is that what you tell yourself, _Dick_?"

"I told you not to-."

"I never wanted you _dead_, boy. And your Titans? I know you simply want to include them in this, but they were never part of _this_." Slade motioned between them, leaving Dick to give him a confused and nearly horrified look. "They were merely _nuisances_. I only wanted to train you, to show you your_ true _potential, but there was only one way to get your attention, wasn't there? How could I ever convince you to see things _my_ way if I didn't show you _my _true potential?" The man asked the boy who continued listening silently, blood boiling beneath his own bare skin.

"You thought showing me what a _psychotic killer _you were, that I'd be more tempted to _join _you?" Dick hissed, fingers clutching the sheets beneath him.

Another snicker from the assassin who had finished combing his hair. The man suddenly dropped to the ground next to the bed, beginning to do push-ups as if he weighed nothing. "No. But I did think you would stop at nothing to find out who I was. To do anything you had to _stop_ me. To train with only _me_ in mind." He stopped mid push-up and looked to the ex-Boy Wonder. "_And I succeeded in that_." A smirk before he resumed his workout, huffing slightly with every repetition. Dick sat there silently, clenching his jaw and refusing to believe the man's words.

Everything that he had gone through, that his team had gone through, it couldn't have all been for him. It wasn't true. "Eventually, you'd realize that there was no taking me down, not with your _team_, and_ not_ with your training." The assassin continued. "Enter: _Nightwing_."

"I didn't leave because of _you." _Dick growled, wincing at the sharp pain felt in his side. "I grew up." he then said beneath his breath, looking away and trying to forget.

"Of course not. Just know I'll still be _waiting_ when you realize no matter what you do, I'll be _unstoppable_."

"Didn't think you were the boasting type, _Deathstroke_."

"It's well deserved, don't you think?" he continued his work out, not breaking a sweat despite the number Dick had been counting internally.

A long silence filled between them then, aside from the controlled breaths the assassin was releasing. It then occurred to the boy that perhaps this was his chance to find out more of the man. To succeed where he hadn't in the research he had ever done over the years.

"How did you heal so quickly? The wounds you had…the blood you lost…you_ shouldn't_ be alive." Sade grunted before folding one of his arms behind his back, continuing his push-ups with only one arm. "Never mind doing push-ups…"

"If I told you, that would ruin the mystery, wouldn't it? Besides, it's nothing the _Bat _can't explain."

"He doesn't know _everything_." Dick retorted, crossing his arms.

"Heh, your resentment to him is quite amusing, Dick. I'm tempted to hear the story of your falling out, but I'll leave it to my _imagination_." A few more push-ups before Dick growled at his failure.

"I don't know _why_ I thought you'd tell me-."

"Military experiment." The assassin answered simply. That made the boy's eyes widen, his blood rushing with what felt like excitement.

"What would the military want with _you?" _Was all the boy could gather from the small answer, spitting out the insult he couldn't control. The military was for honorable men, fighting for their country, not for men like _him._

"Insolence doesn't look good on you, _Nightwing_." Slade hissed in return. "I joined when I was sixteen. You see, I was just as skilled before Deathstroke. My seniors saw that. And they also saw a soldier who would do whatever he was ordered to. Including agreeing to an experiment that would test the immunity of truth serums. Put me in a coma." Another grunt and he switched arms before continuing. "It stopped truth serums alright, but it turned me _meta_. My reflexes faster than any, my strength doubled, my senses heightened, and above all, I could use 90% of my brain capacity when the average human uses a mere 10. Turning an already lethal weapon into an_ indestructible _one."

"You _aren't_ indestructible." Dick quickly said, still gathering the rest of his story.

"What proof have you otherwise, _Dick_? The experiment also heightened my healing factors. That's why I'm not _dead_. That's why I'm still moving while you can hardly get out of _bed_." Dick turned red at that. Was he envious perhaps? But he wouldn't say anything to jeopardize all the information he was finally learning. If he could find more, he would.

"They turned you into a _weapon_, yet from what I've gathered, they didn't end up _using _it." Dick then added.

"Even the Army was smart enough to know what they had _created_. Trying to kill me would prove futile, and keeping me would be jeopardizing all they had tried to keep secret. So instead, they kicked me out." With that, the man moved to his feet, his chest reddened slightly. "Get on your stomach." He then ordered, pointing to the floor.

Dick snapped out of his gaze, one he had been holding for far too long as he was still taking in the assassin's true appearance. "_What_? My stomach- you're _crazy_. I'm not taking orders from _you_."

"Don't be ungrateful,_ boy_. If I was going to do something, I'd have_ done_ it. Now get on your stomach." His voice was sinister this time, leaving Dick uncertain of what was to come. It was then that his senses returned, being in a hotel room with his enemy.

"_No_, I don't trust-." But as soon as he saw the man stride forward, Nightwing was quick to move out of the bed and onto his knees. His body screamed at him as much as his alerted mind had. Laying flat on his stomach, his arms in front of him. Bright blue eyes watched Slade's feet approach until they had walked around his side, no longer in sight. "What are you going to- _agh_!" Before the boy could finish, he felt a large hand grab hold of his right shoulder, another taking him by the wrist and pulling it in a way the boy had always believed unbendable. He was sore, and by the feel of it, tight. Deathstroke was stretching him it seemed, though his body shot with pain and recognized the feeling only of torture.

"_Relax_." Slade purred. "Deep breaths, you'll hurt yourself if you resist." As the words slipped from his mouth, he moved his knee over Dick's lower back, as if to keep him still. It was not a strange position for them, how many times had he almost broken his arm by the exact movements? Yet the assassin's hands were firm and gentle, the warm skin upon his own sent a shiver down Dick's spine. The more human the man seemed to be, the more it twisted the Boy Wonder's gut.

Another wince of protest before Dick dropped his chin to the carpet, allowing Slade to slowly bend his arm however he wanted. And after a while, the pain subsided, his muscles stretched in places he didn't know were even there. Why was he doing this?

"I need you fit to take on Boomerang and his men." Slade then said as if reading the boy's mind. "You may not have my healing powers, but I'll at least have you on your feet soon enough." Nightwing didn't answer, and instead focused on his breathing, focused on the hands that were upon him until he finally spoke up.

"So they kicked you out of the Army…then what? You were _angry_? You wanted _revenge_ against them?" Dick asked, wanting to continue their conversation.

"Quite the _contrary_, Dick. I was unhappy, of course. I had spent a good time of life fighting for them. Fighting in general. It was what I was _good_ at, what I loved more than _anything_. I wanted to go back, but they wouldn't let me. I didn't understand, at first. I was young and full of _bloodlust_. Something I had not really felt so strong before the experiment. I thought that was what they wanted…it _wasn't_." he explained, pulling his arm back farther which had forced a sound from the boy. "My, my, flexible, aren't you?" Dick nearly screamed at the comment but elected to ignore it for his own sake.

"So what did you do?"

"I took things into my _own_ hands. Learned there were people out there looking for that same bloodlust. People who would _pay_ a pretty penny for my _services_. Alas, _Deathstroke_ was born."

"It sounds like Deathstroke was already there. You just _released_ him." Dick said subconsciously unaware of his words, but was made aware when he heard Slade chuckle and release his arm, moving to his other side to do the same to his opposite arm.

"I suppose you would know about that, wouldn't you? Surely Robin was stirring around in Dick Grayson when he _watched_ his parents _die_." Dick frowned at that, painfully aware of how much Slade seemed to know about him.

"You _knew_ this whole time…I just…don't understand. Why didn't you ever say anything? Use it against me? Use it against _Batman_?" His eyes shifted and his head turned slightly to look up at the towering man who was still focused on his arm.

"As I said, it was not my intention to _destroy _you, or Dick Grayson, I'm not even concerned with Bruce Wayne or his _nightly activities_. You see, Dick, I've known your _deepest _secret and I've kept it. As much as I know you don't want to admit it, but you've unknowingly trusted me with it. And it's that _trust_ that I was sure you would rethink our encounters. Rethink whatever you've _thought_ of me." With that, Dick looked away, closing his eyes and trying to focus on his breath once again. He wanted to refuse it all, he wanted to hate the man more than he ever had. But he found that difficult.

"You don't like my answer?" Slade then said after a moment, releasing Dick's arm, "Sit up and spread your legs." Dick followed his order silently, still thinking over all that has happened along with Slade's words. When his legs were spread, he leaned forward, stopped by the pain in his side until the assassin's hands were felt on his back, pushing him down further.

"I left because I didn't belong with the Titans." Dick suddenly said, his voice soft. "They were my friends but…I was _above_ them. And Jump City…it wasn't my home. Neither was Gotham. I needed to be _better_. I couldn't just sit around waiting for something to happen. I couldn't live in Batman's _shadow._" Another sound breathed from his lips when he was pushed further down, his legs and back burning until they slowly stretched for the man. "I expected you to follow me. Everywhere I went, I waited for you to show up. I _did _train with you in mind. I wanted to beat you. I wanted to prove myself to everyone."

"Sorry to disappoint you, but it seems I didn't need to show up after all." Slade replied, amusement tinged in his smooth voice.

"No. You didn't. And even now, after all that training, what have I learned if I can't even remember waking up on a train, captured and my identity revealed…next to _you."_ Slade chuckled at that, and at that point, Dick's stomach was pressed to the carpet, stretching as far as he could with Slade's warm breath on the back of his neck. He tried not to shiver as he closed his eyes.

"Well, you've learned the identity of _me. _You've even learned a_ bit_ of my backstory. Not many people seem to _survive_ to tell the tale either. But above all, boy, perhaps you've learned to be as big of a threat to a man who is angry enough to attack _me."_ His voice got lower then. "That _is _a compliment, by the way." And with that, Slade pushed off of the boy and got to his feet. "On your fists, you need to circulate your blood."

And without any thought, Dick obeyed, moving into a push-up position and moving himself up and down, the corner of his eye watching Slade sitting on the edge of the bed with his arms crossed. "One arm, now." he then said, watching as Dick struggled at first until moving into a slow rhythm.

"I have, but part of me is wishing I_ didn't_. I thought what I wanted was to _expose_ you, to see who you really were…and now that I know-." Dick was conflicted. How was it that within a few moments, he was confiding in the very man he had convinced himself to hate so much?

"Don't _flatter_ yourself, boy. You don't know as much as you'd like to _think_ you do. Regardless, you're disappointed? Wished I was the nightmare that _haunts_ you in the night? Or are you just surprised at how _handsome_ I am?" Dick rolled his eyes at that, yet at the same time couldn't help but glance at the older man who was certainly not what he had always expected.

"I just wish you still had your mask." Muttered Nightwing, thinking it would be easier to look upon that than the smirking man beneath it. The boy then switched arms on his own accord. Slade kept silent at the remark until Dick suddenly stopped and moved to his knees. His eyes were wide, staring at his hands.

"How…how did I do all of that? I couldn't even move before-."

"It's all mental, _Dick_. Your real injury is in the ribs, there's nothing I can treat for that with what we have. Everything else just needed to _wake up_, including your mind. When there is a greater pain, we tend to forget all else. I wonder what hurt more, boy. Thinking of your parents or the team you had left to _fend for themselves_." The whole conversation, Nightwing suddenly realized, was just a sick way of Slade to get him back into motion. But Dick couldn't find himself to be angry.

"So that was the trick, get me to take my mind off of my side by bringing up tragedies? Huh, I guess you really are the same _Slade_." Dick then said, accepting of what Deathstroke had done to him.

"Was there ever any doubt of that, _Dick_?" Slade raised his brow and smirked, watching Dick rise to his feet, stretching on his own for a moment.

"I hope you aren't expecting a 'thank you'." He then hissed, darting his eye's to Slade who tilted his head to the side, observing the boy for a moment.

"And here I thought Robin, the teenage boy without manners was all _grown-up_." Dick couldn't help the twitch at the corner of his mouth, but quickly caught himself and instead pushed his fingers through his raven-black hair.

"So…now what? What's the plan?" The boy asked. Slade smirked at that.

"Now, we _wait_."

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><p><strong>Reviews are appreciated! Expect the next chapter within the week, possibly even sooner!<strong>


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: I can't express my gratitude enough for those who have reviewed/followed my story! I hope you guys continue to enjoy it! I think you'll all like this chapter. Things get interesting, and look at that, this is my second chapter in one day. Enjoy!**

**UPDATE 1/18/15: This is Chpater 3 and 4 that I've combined/remastered to make the prologue into two parts. **

**Summary: Nightwing awakes prisoner next to the man who has haunted him for years: Slade Wilson. They are forced to work together to get out of their situation, and all the while Nightwing must accept some things that may just break the bird completely.**

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><p><em>Wait<em>? Nightwing could do that. He could sit perched high above on the tallest high-rise with strong winds fighting his still form, and still he would not budge. It was something _Batman_ had taught him: balance, patience. All of which required silence, peace of mind, and concentration. All things which the Titans could never give him. He wished it could have all gone differently, but there was no point on dwelling on the past. _Bruce_ had taught him that one. Yet now the wounded boy lay beneath the thin sheets of the bed, pretending to be asleep while watching the dark figure of the assassin who had elected to keep watch. Over what, Dick didn't know. Perhaps over them, to be aware of any danger, or over _him. _The room was dark and silent, Dick was too afraid to move, to even breathe too loudly, afraid of drawing Slade's attention.

The assassin was back in uniform, making him more uneasy which Dick had been convinced it would be quite the opposite. Everything he had thought about the man… had he been wrong all along? Did he truly have different intentions through the years? It didn't seem so, not when the bird had watched him cut through all those men like they were nothing. And yet, the ghost of his large hands on his body,_ helping_ him, guiding him…it was a trick. Wasn't it? Dick couldn't sleep even if he wanted to, not when his mind and body were restlessly tossing their thoughts and feelings back and forth. His fingers tightened around the sheets in his fists, pulling further into himself as he continued to watch the man who stood so calmly, staring out of the window. The man didn't move a muscle until something seemed to catch his eye. Nightwing could only imagine his thought process, what information he was retaining just by staring out into the street. That was, if his story of enhanced brain activity and strength was even_ true_.

And it was all but the movement of Slade's hand that moved from his crossed arms to his goatee that Dick saw something else. What he seemed to be looking at was the life Deathstroke lead when nobody was watching him. As they say, it shows their true character. The large fingers pulled gently at the white hair, seemingly deep in thought. How could he have been so calm, so collected, when every part of him was craving to fight, to destroy? Had he learned to control it? Is it only triggered? Dick had so many questions, wanting, _needing _to know more about him. It may just be the way to take him down.

Hours had passed and the boy still watched the man who had not made a move, simply standing and stroking the bright white hair on his chin. Dick hadn't even tried to sleep, and he was sure he would regret it later. It wasn't until he moved his head ever so slightly, his eyes moving away only for a moment to stretch his neck, that Slade had moved as well. Dick's heart leapt when his blue eyes were met with a cold grey one, staring at him from the window. How had he heard him? Dick panicked, but did not break their silent gaze.

"Are you going to be staring at me _all _night?" Deathstroke asked lowly, his hand no longer playing with his goatee, and with no trace of amusement anywhere on his face. Dick was grateful at how dark it was, for his face red and his body frozen in fear.

"I wasn't-."

"I can _hear_ your breathing. I knew you weren't asleep." Slade cut him off, forcing Dick to groan internally, realizing how ridiculous he must have seemed. "You need to rest." he added.

Embarrassed and angry at himself for being caught, Dick huffed and turned over onto his other side, away from the assassin. He had been reluctant to do so at first, afraid of what the man might do when Dick wasn't watching over him. But minutes soon passed, turning into an hour of no sound or movement. He would hate himself later for it, but Dick soon allowed himself to relax, his eyes closing after a while, and soon enough he was asleep.

"Suit up." the deep voice interrupted his peaceful slumber. Eyes fluttering open, he looked to see that it was the early morning, the sun only just rising. A groan escaped his lips as he sat up, wincing at his side and the remembrance of his situation. Deathstroke was pacing the room as he waited for Dick to pull on his ruined uniform. No eskrima sticks or mask…he felt more naked than he had before.

"Is something happening?" Dick then asked, as Slade halted at the window.

"Not exactly. The police are right on time." Dick furrowed his brows at that, still stretching his arms to wake up his body.

"The po- wait what?!" Dick became frantic until Deathstroke moved to their door, opening it and nodding his head towards the hallway.

"Hm, I suppose you were still out when we arrived. In _absence_ of our passports and wallets, I had to _improvise_ to get us a room here."

"Improvise? What…what did you _do?" _But the question was answered quickly when Slade took him by the wrist and pulled him out into the hallway.

"Only what needed to be _done_." Dick felt sick at that. The assassin must have done what he did best. And Nightwing couldn't stop him, couldn't find a different way because he was too weak. The thought forced Dick to pull his hand away from the man, halting before they could get to the staircase.

"No…_no_ I won't do this. I won't work beside _you_. You're a monster!" Dick growled, clenching his fists and watching Slade snarl in aggravation. Yet the man had no time to respond as something seemed to catch his attention. Footsteps. Before another word was whispered, he reached for Nightwing, practically throwing him into the housekeeper's supply closet. Knocking into a broom, Dick was about to lose his balance when a strong arm caught him. Another hand slammed over his mouth, and before he knew it he was trapped within Slade's painful embrace, his back pushing into his chest as the two of them backed away from the door silently. Nightwing fought against him at first, pulling at his forearm, wriggling against his hold the best he could with his injured side, but the sound of a muffled voice shut him up quick.

Police stood outside the door, radios going off and orders being given. Dick's hands rested upon Slade's forearm, almost as if to keep it there and over his mouth so that eh would not make a sound.

"_I_ may know your secret, Nightwing, but I'm sure you'd prefer to keep that list to a minimum." Slade whispered into his ear, his beard tickling the sensitive skin around it.

After a few moments, Slade finally released the boy, moving past him and towards the door where he leaned his head forward to listen closely. Dick stood feeling sick to his stomach, his heart rapid and filled with fear at the idea of being caught. He took a step back when Slade's eye began studying the small room cramped with supplies. He was looking for something, anything to get them both out.

"We can _wait_ until their gone-." Dick then spoke only to be interrupted by the assassin's hand covering his mouth once again. Leaning forward, his dark grey eye narrowed.

"Not if they call a _search_." Slade replied lowly. "They know my face but they don't know yours." With that, Slade reached for the button down uniform folded on one of the shelves, as well as a pair of khakis that. "Put it on." He ordered Dick who just stared at him in disbelief.

"I'm not...I'm not _wearing_ this! And I'm not going out there- they won't believe I'm some _housekeeper_." Dick hissed lowly, shoving the clothes back to the man who bared his teeth threateningly.

"Fine, we'll go out_ loud_, then." And as soon as he turned and reached for his gun, Dick's eyes went wide and his hands reached out to catch the wrist of Deathstroke.

"No! No, wait." Slade turned to face him, his wrist still encased within the boy's hands for a moment until he sheepishly let go. "What am I supposed to do? Supposed to say?" He wanted no more death, he couldn't risk the idea of someone losing their life because he was helping Slade.

"You say _nothing_," he man replied, watching as the boy stripped off his uniform, flinching at the sound of a door being knocked down. "You walk out there and leave the door open. _Don't_ make eye contact and don't wear that face you've got on now." His hand suddenly crept beneath the boy's chin, finding at least amusement in the fearful look of his features. Dick knocked his hand away and buttoned his pants and shirt, being sure to look as neat as possible.

"And if they see right through me? If they find the _both_ of us?" Slade helped the boy straighten his collar and wiped out any wrinkles. When he was finished he smirked and looked to the blue eyes staring up at him.

"Then as I said," a large hand then pushed through Dick's thick black hair, combing it gently, forcing his gut to twist and his blood to pound, "we go out _loud._"

A few moments later, Dick was pulling out a handcart, keeping to himself as he fixed the stack of towels on the shelf of it. He gave Deathstroke one last look before seeing the open hallway and the curious guests who stood by their doors, watching the police rummage through their room. Relieved, he then began to feign his shock along with the others, allowing Deathstroke to sneak behind him and into another vacant room where he was sure to sneak out of the window.

Dick was on his own now, and he had half a mind to turn Slade into the police right then and there. But there was too much at risk, and a large part of him didn't feel right in exploiting the man. So after a few moments he turned and moved into the elevator, for the first time staring into a mirror and realizing how ridiculous he looked. His face was lightly bruised, his black hair greasy yet pushed back from Slade's hand. He was hunched slightly from his injury, and the large uniform he had been forced to wear no longer made him look like the filled out vigilante he had craved to be. When the doors open he was faced with the towering mercenary, his jaw clenching.

"You know, I think you can pull that off, _Dick._" Slade remarked with a smirk, watching as Nightwing fumed and stormed past him.

"We're not going anywhere until I can change. Until I can get myself weapons." Dick then declared as he stormed down the empty corridor.

"You read my mind. Don't worry, I know _just_ the place."

And within the hour the two of them had successfully evaded the police and made their way to a far off hunting store where no one seemed to question their outfits. Dick found himself wondering how Slade had known the area so well, how he knew when the police would arrive, and even how he was able to get them out of the forrest. He wasn't ignorant, of course. He knew the man was not just a threat to Jump City or Gotham, but it seemed Nightwing had underestimated just how popular the mercenary was. Slowly he was learning, gathering information on the man that he would surely use once he returned home. Yet as his blue eyes looked over the range of guns the store held, he began to wonder _if _he'd even make it out of the country.

"Go _change_ before someone asks for your autograph." Slade ordered, grabbing a black shirt and shoving to to Dick's chest where he hid the red mark of his suit, moving behind a shelf to pull it over his torso.

"And no one will recognize _you?" _The boy asked once he caught up to the mercenary who was eyeing a long dagger.

"Without the _mask_, I doubt it." The man replied dryly, leading Dick around the store where the both grabbed clothes and holsters, making their way towards the counter where guns were hidden behind glass and held on walls. Nightwing was sure that this must have been like a kid in a candy story for Slade. But the mercenary didn't seem too impressed as he looked over every firearm.

"How do you plan on paying for this, Slade?" Dick whispered to him as the assassin held up a rifle, testing it out within his hands.

"Visa, if they take it." The man said simply, setting the gun down onto the counter before pointing towards the handguns beneath it. "_Two_ of those." He said to the clerk. Dick rolled his eyes.

"Funny. But we don't have our wallets, remember?" But Dick was suddenly silenced when Slade pulled a plastic card from his belt, setting it down on the table. It was obvious then. "I didn't pin you as a _petty thief_." Dick growled.

"You couldn't pin me at_ anything_, boy." The man replied smoothly, a smirk upon his lips. "I thought you wanted a weapon."

"I don't use _guns_."

"Ah, I almost forgot. You are_ faint of heart_." Deathstroke nodded at the clerk and took what he purchased, forcing Dick to carry their gear and clothes. Black cargo pants and black shirts. They wore an army green utility belt and Nightwing took the liberty of further protecting his identity with sunglasses. They dressed behind the store, tossing their clothes into the trash, all the while Dick was silent, watching as the man before him was slowly twisting into someone he hardly knew. Nightwing thought back to Deathstroke's story of the military, of his life before the mercenary. And in that moment, he could believe it.

The man who stood before him, pulling apart his newly purchased guns, did not seem to match up at all with the Slade Wilson he had become dangerously obsessed with over the years. It was harder for the boy to remind himself that the man was a killer, a psychopath who not only tried to kill his friends but tried to turn him against them. He could remember every broken bone, every scream that gurgled from his mouth at the hands of this madman. Yet there was no anger, no hatred for the unmasked man who seemed nothing short of a soldier looking to complete a mission and get home. And that was what angered Nightwing…the loss of hatred and understanding. The confusion fogging his mind as to how and why he was in such a predicament. Never in a thousand years would he believe to be standing next to his greatest enemy, trying to understand him, and working beside him.

"You know where this guy is?" Dick then spoke up before Deathstroke could catch him staring.

"All too well. He likes to hide out in the open. He's also not one for 'henchmen' but I've no doubt _Waller _is keeping him protected." Slade explained, sliding the two handguns into the holsters attached to his thighs. Nightwing gave him a nod. He didn't need to know much more, especially not with Slade in charge. Mercenary or not, the man had proved time and time again that he knew what he was doing, and Dick couldn't counter that. "It's a _shame_ you got rid of that uniform. I think you could have been a _great_ housekeeper." Jested the man with the corner of his mouth pulling wickedly.

Dick couldn't help himself but to return the lighthearted statement. "Good enough to give up fighting? Can't say the same about your _mask_." Slade's smirk faltered at that, which lead Nightwing to believe that perhaps he had said the wrong thing. When Slade when to turn around to lead the way, Dick didn't budge, his arms crossed over his chest.

"We _aren't _killing him. Or anyone else." The boy declared, watching as the older man came to a halt and turned around.

"Is it '_we' _already, Nightwing? I'm touched, really." And with that the mercenary began making his way towards the boy who stood his ground. "I see that Robin is still around, stirring within you. I know he's dying to come out and save the day, to pull out his handcuffs and throw the 'bad guys' in jail, and I hate to disappoint my_ favorite_ little bird, but _no one _messes with Deathstroke and _lives."_ His last words were a growl, his one eye as cold as ice despite his radiating form standing over him.

"They didn't just mess with _you, _Slade. I don't even know how I _got_ here and you don't see me ready to lynch anyone. I get that you're angry, but I can't just allow you to kill people who didn't do anything, especially if they're working for Waller and just doing their jobs."

"And here I thought you would start to see things _my_ way. You see, Dick, I'm going to do whatever I _want_. If you think giving me your little pep talk about justice is going to do anything to stop that, then you will be _sorely _disappointed."

"What is your _problem_, Slade? You were in the military, you should know better than anyone that not everyone's life should be _sentenced_. Is it your reputation? Do you think letting others live is week? Or is it that you're _sore _because someone managed to capture the big, bad_ Deathstr_-." but before Dick could stop his spitfire of words he truly did not think out before hand, Slade's fingers were crushing his throat, cutting off his circulation, and lifting him to struggle on his toes.

"You would be wise to watch your _tongue, Grayson_. Don't think I wouldn't put one between your eyes if you step out of_ line_." And Dick knew that he had meant those words, but after the man had helped him, protected him, it was hard to see the truth behind the words. He wasn't going to win this battle either way, and with gasp he was dropped to his knees, his hands rubbing at his throat, trying to catch his breath. And just as quickly as Deathstroke seemed to be but a mask, he was back, and dangerous as ever.

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><p>Nightwing was paralyzed, his muscles making nothing more than a twitch as the shadow of Batman was on his knees, blood soaking his uniform. He wondered if he was even breathing for a moment, as his muscles cramped and his insides churned, but his true fear was fighting to keep the glasses over his eyes, to hide his identity that was only being mocked around him. His blue hues, hazy and undoubtedly bruised, shifted to where the mercenary lay: Slade Wilson, laying in a pool of his own blood after pulling a knife from his one good eye. Years ago, he wondered if Robin would have been relieved, proud even to see his greatest enemy defeated. But now…now Dick felt hopeless, his senses too weak to even tell if the man was dead or not.<p>

And if he was…it was the Boy Wonder's fault.

**_3 Hours Ago_**

Dick had kept a good distance between him and the mercenary, his hand moving to his throat where he could still feel Slade choking him. It took all of his strength not to lunge at the man, injured or not. But he knew what the outcome of something so foolish would be. '_I see Robin is making a comeback', _the mercenary would say with the smug look on his face before throwing him like he was nothing but a rag-doll. Dick growled at that beneath his breath, folding his arms across his chest and ignoring the order from his companion to keep look out while he hot-wired a car. The boy leaned his back against it, his brows furrowed, his side aching and his head still foggy. He just wanted to go home, more than ever with the knowledge he had learned about the assassin. How he craved to lock himself away, to put all of the pieces together of the man who occupied far too much of his life. At the thought he looked over to Slade who tore off a piece of plastic beneath the dashboard of the car.

The boy could remember their first encounter. Well, perhaps every encounter, awake or not. The mask, the gadgets, the intentions. Again and again the Titans would chase after him, Dick more than anyone else, and in the end they always ended up empty handed. He was unstoppable to them. Yet when years passed and Robin was older and wiser, he quickly learned that the man was not exclusive just to their team. He was a mercenary, ruthless, and cunning. Batman had warned him on more than one occasion, especially after the man nearly took out a chunk of the Justice League within _minutes. _What Dick learned that day was simple: whatever he thought Slade was after, he was wrong. He would always be wrong.

What man dangerous enough to take on the Justice League would bother with the Teen Titans? Half the time Slade didn't even need to be present to cause them the destruction of Jump City. He wasn't even trying, and that hurt Robin's ego more than anything. No matter how hard he trained, searched, or learned, he was always going to be miles behind.

Bright blue orbs shifted once again to the man who had then started the car. Slade had known it as well. He knew how good he was. Dick supposed it made sense that the man lashed out at him when the bird pointed out he wasn't as great as everyone thought. And that's what made the boy nervous…he knew the mercenary was going to keep that in mind. He knew he was going to put an end to that thought. The boy softened his eyes that, tilting his chin down. He wondered if perhaps he would be the reason for those deaths, for tipping Slade over the edge.

"Still with us, Boy Wonder?" The mercenary's smooth voice shook him from his thought, forcing Dick to push off of the car and look up at the man. Slade was either an expert at hiding his inner thoughts, or perhaps let his impulses rule them for him. With a nod of his head, Dick moved to the other side of the car, settling into the hot constrained space, nearly gagging at the smell of perfume thick in the air. By the looks of the clothes piled in the back and the stained nail polish on the leather seats, it wasn't a mystery as to who the car belonged to.

The two sat in silence, and once again Dick found himself lost in thought instead of taking in his environment…his surroundings. They were in a city near the beach it seemed, due to the smell of sea salt in the air. His guess was confirmed when they were driving along the horizon, the sun high in the sky and beating down onto the pavement and sand. Nightwing was on Slade's good side, literally, with his eye focusing on the road but just as well on the boy next to him. An hour had passed and still not a word was said, despite the thousands of questions continuing to flood Dick's mind. He still couldn't understand how Slade knew exactly where he was going.

Soon enough the itching of questions in his mind was enough to force his body to shift. He wanted to speak…perhaps learn more about the man just as he had done the night before. But what was there to ask? Before he could even think of anything, Slade spoke up first.

"We're being followed." He said simply. Just as Dick was about to turn around and look, the mercenary grabbing his wrist and stopped him from moving. "The _mirror_, boy." With a narrow of his eyes, Dick obeyed and look to the rearview mirror to see the burgundy sports car that was not too far behind.

"How long?" Nightwing asked.

"As soon as we left the city." Dick gawked at him for a moment, snatching his wrist back.

"They've been following us that long and you _neglected_ to let me know?!" He shouted, his nerves beginning to shake him.

"And tell me, boy, what were _you_ going to do about it?" Dick shut up at that, grunting and folding his arms once again, happy that he had not bothered striking up conversation.

"So now what? Why haven't they made their move? Why haven't you tried-." Before the bird could finished, Slade slammed his foot down on the gas, speeding the car up and down the straight road. "This car isn't- isn't built for this kind of speed- we can't- we need to stop!" Dick shouted over the roar of the engine, his hands gripping at whatever he could hold onto while Slade remained calm.

"Don't worry, I was planning on just that." Dick was then thrown my momentum over his arm rest as Slade jerked down hard on the wheel, forcing the car to turn sideways, skidding down the pavement and making the sound of a screech so horrible it sickened Nightwing. Panting and feeling a cold sweat on his forehead, he picked himself up and looked to Slade who had a glimmer in his eye whilst unbuckling his seatbelt. "If I were you, I'd keep down." he then said, a smirk pulling at his lips. Dick raised his brows at that.

"What do you mean, we aren't staying here are we? We're sitting du-." But fear stopped the words from spilling out of his mouth when he looked past the mercenary's face, watching as the sports car was speeding right towards them. "Slade!" But it was too late and the car had impacted the assassin's side, forcing their vehicle right over the edge of the road and off the cliff. Dick braced for impact, remembering the training modules Bruce used to put him through. Closing his eyes to regain focus, he let out a breath and opened them, feeling the car slowly spinning through midair. But before he could even think, Slade was shooting at the windshield, watching it shatter and glass began to rain down upon them both. There was no time for what he was doing, or so the bird thought, but when the mercenary took him by the waist and lunged them both out of the car, and into the hot sand, just far enough for the explosion of the car to tickle their backs, he realized their was just enough time. Heart racing, Dick moved off of Slade and nearly stumbled away before the man's hand caught his ankle and took him down, dragging him back to him.

"We need to let them think they won." Slade then said, pieces of glasses sticking in his hair. Dick was still trying to wrap his mind around it all, and even the sunglasses couldn't conceal that. "I told you, I use 90% of my brain, boy. Everything is constructed perfectly." It wasn't possible, the both of them should be dead. There was no way he could have played out what would happen. "You can thank me later." The assassin then added, picking himself up and peering over the rocks that had concealed them both. Dick stayed silent, and all he could ask himself was if Batman would have been able to do the same thing.

"We're nearly there. There's _more_ of them." Slade reported, watching the figures looking over the cliffs. "And this is where we go our separate ways." Those words had instantly brought Dick back to his senses, sitting up and staring at the man who kneeled before him and checked his guns.

"Split up? What do you mean? I don't know where I'm going…I can hardly fight-." Dick would kick himself for that later. He was leader of the Teen Titans, the first Robin of Batman, and there he was, feeling vulnerable and weak. But with his side aching, his body famished, and his identity on the line, it was growing harder to pull himself together, especially with his arch nemesis by his side.

"Beyond the cliff there you'll see your destination. High security, I'm sure, but not by the dock they have. While I'm keeping them busy at the front door, you'll infiltrate beneath us. They'll have a control room somewhere, but I'm sure that mind of yours will happen upon it." Slade gave him a soft yet sinister smile before holstering his weapons. "And as for your fighting…didn't I tell you it was all mental?" The mercenary tilted his head, as if encouraging the boy he had nearly choked to death that very day. "Shall I _stretch _you again?"

Dick turned red at that, but couldn't help but smirk, taking the hand Slade offered to help pull him to his feet. "Get going, Grayson. We'll meet up soon." With a few steps backwards, Slade turned and began walking away but was stopped when Dick straightened himself and lifted his jaw.

"Deathstroke." he called out, watching as the mercenary looked over his shoulder. "When this is over…when we're back on home turf…we have unfinished business. This doesn't change anything." Slade smiled at that.

"Sure it doesn't." And with that, he was gone, leaving Dick to mentally prepare himself before crossing the beach, heading towards the cliffs where it rounded and where he could see a modern manor looking over the beach.

Nightwing was grateful then for his time with the Teen Titans. Batman had taught him to work in the dark, yet they helped him worth in the light. And as if he were merely a fly on the wall, Dick Grayson let his adrenaline flow, the hope of home and the breathing room from Slade finally allowing his skills to kick in. He waited for any sign of the guards to be alerted, which didn't take long as most of them dispersed from the dock and retreated up the steps that climbed the cliff towards the manor. That left him with only a few to take care of. Masked man not so different than the ones who were on the train. With that memory in mind, he took them out swiftly, quietly, and was sure to take anything useful off of them, including an earpiece.

_-Perimeter has been breached-_

-_We have a code Alpha-_

-_Sensors in Sector E have been alerted-_

-_It's Deathstroke- Deathstroke in the-_

The radio traffic was causing so much interference, the boy could hardly get a straight sentence out of any of them. But there was no time to waste, and so Nightwing quietly moved up the steps, listening for anyone around but it seemed Deathstroke was proving quite the distraction. Crossing the open yard that seemed vacant, he found himself unexpectedly dodging the tiny bullets of turrets hidden on corners of the roof. One had managed to slice the side of his arm, leaving him to crouch behind a large plant. He wouldn't be fast enough to make another run for the door, but he took his chance, throwing the baton he had taken from one of the guards into the opposite direction and listening to the spray of bullets as he sprinted towards the house.

But it didn't stop there, his jaw connected with the butt of a rifle, sending him stumbling backwards before ducking another guard's swing. With a growl, Nightwing, grabbed onto the gun, kicking down the man and swinging the firearm into the nose of the man behind him. Shots and yells were heard echoing through the house, but he couldn't let himself get distracted. Shifting his eyes around the large room, he spotted a heavily armed door that couldn't scream "control room" enough. Key card access. Easy, as he took one from the knocked out man beside him. Another hit was dodged once he stepped into the dark room that was only illuminated by walls of monitors, relaying security footage of the house.

Dick sent the man into the now closed the door, slamming his head into it just hard enough for the guard to slump down against it. A wince escaped him as his side began to ache, but he ignored it and moved towards the computer. When he moved his fingers over the keys, scanning the screens to find Slade's position, something caught his eye. Some of the screens were not displaying surveillance…at least…not for the house.

It was him. Nightwing. Perched upon a gargoyle in Jump City. His lips parted at the scenes taking place in front of him. Another screen showing Deathstroke there as well. The locations were not too far apart, and the timing on the monitor was exactly the same. It was then that the fog in his mind was beginning to clear. It was the night before his capture. He was starting to remember.

**_2 Days ago_**

_"Gotham is your home, Dick. If you need time…at least come back here." Barbara's voice made the boy frown as he stood over the traffic beneath him. A pizza place was in his sights, the same one he would go with the Titans to celebrate. "I can understand wanting to leave Blüdhaven for a bit, but I think going back… _there… _is just going to to bring back unwanted memories."_

_"Gotham isn't my home, Babs." His eyes then lifted to catch sight of the dark tower in the distance. "And that's exactly what I need to do right now. I need to remember." And with that, he took his earpiece out and crushed it within his palm before sprinkling it over the edge. Going solo was perhaps the best and worse decision Dick Grayson had made. He loved working on his own terms, doing things his own way, and fighting his own battles…but he was lonelier than ever. Who could he confide in now? He would never go back to Bruce, and speaking to Barbara was just as bad._

_But the Titans must have hated him. Perhaps he was foolish to return, but he was certain that if one person would allow him back into their live's, it would be Starfire._

_"Oy! You're in my way." Dick was quickly pulled from his thoughts at the sound of the voice, but he was too slow to stop whatever seemed to be flying at him. And at that very same moment, the familiar flash of red crossed his eye. Something was aiming at him, and when he leapt move out of sight, the sound of the gunshot rang in his ears just as his ribs were crushed with the impact of what was hurling towards him. Crying out in pain, he began falling from the high rise, his hand over his now broken ribs, the pain making him sick and unfocused. With the ground coming up he began to panic, but he was soon met with the hard ground of a rooftop where he had been kicked onto. Groaning, he held his side and rolled onto his back, looking up at the familiar mask._

_"S-Slade…" The name was enough to get Nightwing back to his senses, moving to his feet and ignoring the sooting pain that began to spread over his torso._

_"Welcome back, Robin…or rather, Nightwing. We've a lot of catching up to do-." Nightwing pulled out his eskrima sticks and lunged at the mercenary._

_"Like hell we do!" The boy shouted, swinging with anger at the man which only proved futile. Slade wasn't even trying to attack him. "That was you pulling the trigger! I should have known you'd be lurking around the first corner as soon as I came back-." But his anger blinded him when Slade countered the boy's attack, sending a hard kick to the center of his chest, leaving him winded and on his knees._

_"I guess you've missed me. Fortunately for you, boy, I'm not here for you. Not tonight." The mercenary replied, standing over him. Dick furrowed his brows at that, trying to catch his breath as he looked up. But another blow met the side of his face, and this time as he landed on his side, cringing in pain, he could see exactly what had hit him: a boomerang._

_"Didn't know ya' had friends, Slade. Did you betray this one too?" Nightwing could hardly comprehend the words whistling against his ear, his head ached and it hurt for him to even keep his eyes open. It wasn't long before he blacked out, leaving Slade to walk over to the boy and kneel beside him, checking his pulse._

_"Something like that." The assassin replied. "But your quarrel is with me, and you are going to regret this." Slade unsheathed his sword, stepping over Nightwing as if to keep him out of Captain Boomerang's sights. And when the mercenary charged at the man, an explosion was heard._

_**Now**_

The screen went white, and after a few moments the same images began to loop. Dick stared in shock, slowly remembering that night, remembering Deathstroke and the Boomerang. Of course it had been his fault that he was there, but as another monitor showed, it was also his fault Nightwing was _alive. _The monitor flashed scenes of Deathstroke fighting the Boomerang from the tallest buildings, seemingly evasive even for Slade. The rifle belonged to the mercenary but he must have known that Nightwing would see the red dot, forcing him to move out of the way of the boomerang. It all came flooding back to him, and his heart began to beat rapidly, his gut began to twist at the horrific realization.

"Deathstroke…_saved me."_

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><p><strong>Next chapter will be up soon! And as always, reviews are more than welcome!<strong>


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: Once again, you guys are awesome for following and reviewing my story, it definitely encourages me to write more! Speaking of which, after this chapter (which I kind of see as the end to a prologue more than anything) I'm hoping to make my chapters longer. So I apologize if they're a bit short, and I certainly apologize for any grammatical errors as some of these are written in the middle of the night. Anyway, this chapter is pretty exciting so, enjoy! **

**Summary: Nightwing awakes prisoner next to the man who has haunted him for years: Slade Wilson. They are forced to work together to get out of their situation, and all the while Nightwing must accept some things that may just break the bird completely.**

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><p>Nightwing felt sick, his skin paling, breaking into a cold sweat as his hands moved out to hold the desk in front of him. Lightheaded, he tried to ignore the videos flashing in front of him but his blue eyes could not be torn away. Over and over he watched the mercenary, the man he was sure was out to destroy him, go out of his way to help him. It was not Deathstroke's M.O. It wasn't even <em>Slade's. <em>And yet, Dick realized, perhaps he did not know Slade Wilson. Perhaps that man and the man he was when the mask was on was a completely different person. It wasn't such a farfetched idea, was it? Bruce Wayne was nothing like Batman…and even Dick himself, he was not like Nightwing. But the two of them? They were _heroes. _And he would only be insulting what Bruce and him worked so hard to do if he were to even compare Slade to that. So many questions, yet all he could really think was: why? Why him? Why Slade? Why save him?

Dick then thought back to the train, the way Deathstroke took out all of those men, being sure to get them both off and to safety. Then to the hotel, where the man had helped him recover, who had revealed so much about himself. And there was part of Nightwing that couldn't help but wonder how a hero like himself had ended up so helpless. Yet Deathstroke, had never seemed to be more of an expert at _everything. _Dick remembered seeing Batman that way, like a god, unstoppable, untouchable, yet the mercenary seemed to blow him right out of the water. _Without _a mask. Even then, as Dick's eyes finally shifted to a different monitor, he watched the assassin taking on multiple men, using a mix of his firearms and fists. It looked effortless. Nightwing felt weak. Perhaps he wasn't cut out for this line of work, after all.

Or perhaps, he just didn't have the right mentor.

It took him a few moments to pull it together, remembering why he was there in the first place. Sitting down, he let out a breath, fighting the nagging thoughts in his mind as he began accessing the home's security, shutting down the network and any means of communication. It should give Slade some time to breathe before the next wave of guards come along. But when Dick finally arrived to the large hall where Slade had been, it seemed he wasn't exactly needed. The mercenary stood over the pool of dead bodies, breathing heavily with blood standing his face. When their eyes met, Dick set his jaw, knowing it wasn't the time or place to mention what he had learned. Silently, he moved over to one of the men, checking for a pulse. "You killed them all." The boy then said, a frown creasing his features. Part of him had wished the man would take his words into deep consideration. Dick couldn't hide his disappointment.

"I didn't have a choice. It was me or _them_." Slade replied roughly, moving towards the boy. When Dick looked to him, he could see that the man was genuine, but before anything could be said, the man had stumbled backwards as something sliced the side of his arm. Dick then looked above them and there stood Captain Boomerang, smiling down at the two of them.

"Well, well, I was wondering what took so long. If only the other's could see me now. Floyd wouldn't believe me, of course, not until I bring you back to Waller." The man jumped down from the top floor, his grin never faltering. "No, Slade, I won't give you the pleasure of Death. I'm going to send you back to the Squad. And I've no doubt Waller wants to put that bomb in your neck as much as I do." Dick could only listen silently, moving to his feet where he slowly began to walk away, his eyes moving to Slade who grit his teeth.

"You're going to wish there was still a bomb in your neck when _I'm _through with you, Harkness-." But boomerangs went flying, and Slade shot every one of them down, backing up as some of them even began to explode. It was when Slade found himself out of bullets the one of them caught him off guard, sending him flying back into a cloud of black smoke. And that was Dick's cue, charging at the villain who turned and smiled at him.

"Ah, the Boy Wonder!" And just like in his years of training, the boy dodge it easily, still charging at the man who didn't make to move. "I see you're not familiar with out a boomerang works." That had thrown Dick off, until something collided in the back of his head, sending him face first to the ground. Rookie mistake, he thought to himself, growling and pushing up his glasses that threatened to fall from his face.

"A little late for that, mate. What will the world say when they find out who Batman's little sidekick is? Just a circus freak." The man kicked at the boy as he tried to stand up, forcing him to land onto his aching side. "I suppose you won't find out. You see Slade, I'll let you live, but I didn't say anything about _him." _Another kick and Dick let out a yelp, growling and pulling all of his strength together to lunge at the man, swinging sloppy punches at him, none of which had landed. "Nothing hurts more than watching the one's you care about _die_, is there Dick Grayson?" a flash of steel and Nightwing found himself ducking the blade which the Captain had unsheathed. It was the Boomerang's words that caught him off guard, though.

"What? Care? About me? You've got the wrong idea-" The boy was trying to piece together the man's words, hoping Deathstroke would cut in soon, but he seemed to be out of sight.

"Heh, boy I've watched Slade Wilson nearly cut down a whole army without a seconds hesitation. _Never _have I seen him _save _someone. I suppose it all makes sense, you leavin' the Bats and all." Nightwing fumed at that, disregarding the man's explanation, and more questions arising in the boy's head for the moment. More violent swings, and this time Dick landed every single one, watching the villain fall to his knees and wiping the blood from his chin.

"What are you waiting for? Kill him!" The man shouted, and before Dick could deliver anything more, the sound of footsteps reached his ears. Turning around, he felt his heart drop at the amount of guards now entering the room. He felt alone, empty, confused, and above all, _tired. _For a moment, he doubted himself, knew he could not take them all by himself. But he was trained better than that. Giving up wasn't an option, and if he was going to go out, he would do it fighting. And if he needed any more inspiration, Slade Wilson had given it to him when he charged through the men, angry and ferocious. Too fast for anyone to figure out what was happening, the man leapt over Nightwing just in time to stop the blade from burying into his flesh by the hands of the Boomerang.

"Go keep them busy. I'll deal with _him_." Deathstroke ordered over his shoulder. A nod of his head and Nightwing ignored everything else. The pain in his body was gone then. The fear and questions clouding his mind had cleared for the moment, and he felt as if he were in Jump City, fighting beside his team. The men with guns were targeted first, distracting them before the spray of bullets could reach him. They weren't unlike the crooks he had fought most of his life. Basic martial arts, if any, and a linear way of fighting. They couldn't see the next blow even if it was inches from their face. With the gunmen out, everything else felt easier, ducking and lunging out of the way, blocking batons and anything else thrown at him. The adrenaline kept him going, and every time one of the guards had fallen to the floor with a loud thud, he couldn't help the smirk pulling at the corner of his mouth. For the first time in a long time, he was enjoying himself.

At the corner of his eye, he was able to watch Deathstroke and Captain Boomerang, who proved himself more dangerous than the name and reputation let on. One moment Slade was beating the man to a pulp, another moment he was fighting off different type of boomerangs, and even the skill the man had with a knife. _Two more. _Dick thought to himself, watching the guards now hesitant to attack him. But the boy didn't wait and through the first kick, sending one of them back into the wall, the other falling into submission by the tight hold he had on his neck. The smirk turned to a grin as he stood above his work. Another rookie mistake.

"Dick!" Slade's voice shouted, forcing him to turn around an receive the hard blow from the guard he had not heard get back up. Holding his head, he sunk to his knees, his vision blurry and his head spinning. His glasses were broken, but his only focus was pushing them back up his nose. He soon regretted looking up at Slade, who was distracted by Dick's mistake, allowing Captain Boomerang to drive his knife into Slade's only eye. The yell heard from the mercenary was a mix of anguish and anger. Veins popped out of his neck blood poured down his face and trickled into his mouth. The yell soon turned to a growl as he dropped to his knees, both hands on the hilt of the blade. Dick would have flinched at the sound of him pulling it out, at the sight of him blind and defeated, but he could only feel the pain flooding back to him. _I'm sorry. _He wanted to say, but the words never came. Deathstroke was soon laying in his own blood, unmoving, and Dick was still trying to figure out if the man was alive.

_This is my fault. This is all my fault. I should have never gone back to Jump City. I shouldn't have let myself lose. I shouldn't have been distracted. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. _A hand pushed itself into his thick hair, yanking it back and forcing him to look up at Harkness standing over him. "Doesn't look so scary now, does he?" The man asked, letting out a deep cackle. When Dick's trembling fingers moved to push up his glasses, the man snickered. "Here, allow me." the villain took the glasses off of the boy's face, revealing his watery blue eyes. _This is it. _Dropping the glasses, Boomerang crushed them beneath his foot. "Have you ever even heard of me, boy? Surely, you're friends with the Flash. You see, lots of people think I'm a joke. When they think of my name, they don't quiver in fear. But look what I've managed to do: I took down the world's greatest assassin, and now I'm going to kill Batman's protege. No one will ever again question my power. No one will dear tread on me. Not even Waller and her puppets!" Another laugh barked from him, and his hand slid into his coat, pulling out a cold handgun.

"I really should bring you to the roof and drop you to your death. That would be fitting, wouldn't it Dick?" But the boy said nothing. Felt nothing. Everything was numb. "Funny how you didn't know my name, and yet I know _everything _about you." And without even thinking, the boy finally spoke, his voice solemn and quiet.

"Not everything." And what happened next felt like a dream. A flash of silver flew across his face and through the hand of Captain boomerang, forcing his arm to jerk back, pulling the trigger and killing the guard that held Nightwing's hair. Still on his knees and unmoving, he looked up to see Deathstroke on his feet, his eye still bleeding, but it seemed nothing compared to what he was doing to the Australian. The mercenary was fighting blind, and Dick was sure that it was just wishful thinking. But the stench of blood and the sounds of flesh being pummeled forced him to realize that it was all very real. It all happened so fast, and before he knew it, Slade was holding the Captain up by the throat, his fingers squeezing slowly, about to crush his neck.

Dick protested.

"N-no." he said, hoping Slade would hear him. "Don't…don't kill…" his hands found the ground in front of his knees, fighting to keep himself conscious. There was too much death. He couldn't be responsible for anymore.

Luckily, Slade did hear him, but was reluctant to oblige. And he had every right to ignore the boy. The man was blind because of him.

"He _knows_ your identity. There is no other way." Slade growled over his shoulder.

It was true, Dick knew that letting the man live was a big risk. He could easily tell the world, put his and Bruce's life in jeopardy. And the man had almost killed him, the man had made his life miserable for the past few days. But when hadn't the Joker? The Penguin? Even Deathstroke. No more death.

"Please…" the boy wheezed. "Enough."

And though he begged, he expected to hear the sickening crunch of the man's neck, and was in shock when all he could hear was Deathstroke slamming him against the wall. Threatening him, cursing him, telling him he ever spoke a word of what happened, he would hunt the man around the world, killing anyone he had ever cared about, including the mention of a long lost son. Nightwing was sure that would shut the man up, he knew he wouldn't dare tread on Slade in that position. The room went silent then. For a long time Dick stayed on his knees, trying to hold himself together, but he knew he needed to give in, his body had been fighting too much. Only he couldn't, not yet, not when his eyes looked over to the mercenary who sat in front of the knocked out Captain Boomerang. His forearm rested over his raised knee, his head tilted down as if he were defeated.

Nightwing wasn't sure how he was able to get to his feet, but he found himself walking towards the man, kneeling beside him. Deathstroke then covered his wounded eye with his hand, forcing Dick to frown. "I should have been aware…I…I'm sorry." But Slade was quick to reply.

"It will heal." That took Nightwing back, his brows furrowing.

"Wh-what? How? I thought…I thought you were blind-."

"I was." he answered, his hand still covering the wound. "But it will heal, I can assure you. I'd prove it, but it's not exactly a pretty sight." He said with the slightest hint of amusement. Overwhelmed with all that had happened within a short while, Dick couldn't stop himself from throwing his arms around the neck of the assassin…his greatest enemies. The both of them covered in blood, Dick ignored it and hugged the assassin. Perhaps it was the realization that the man had saved him once again, that he had been wrong about him, that he cared that the man would live, that Dick would live…or perhaps it was all of those things. But nothing needed to make sense in that moment, for what he was doing simply felt right. They were alive. They were going home. And as he continued to hug the man, he felt himself slowly slipping away into an unconscious state. But before the blackness took him, he could feel a pair of strong arms moving around his middle.

And with that, he blacked out.

End Prologue

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><p><strong>Well that felt like a roller coaster to write, haha. Hope you guys enjoyed, and once again, reviews are appreciated! <strong>


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: Once again, guys, you are AWESOME. Seriously, the feedback I get really encourages me writing and I'm so happy that, so far, everyone has been enjoying the story! This chapter was amazing to write, this is where I'm really sinking my teeth into the story. As I said, the previous chapters were just the Prologue. This is now the start of the full story, and well, I'll just stop writing and let you read!**

**Summary: Nightwing awakes prisoner next to the man who has haunted him for years: Slade Wilson. They are forced to work together to get out of their situation, and all the while Nightwing must accept some things that may just break the bird completely.**

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><p>Chapter 1:<p>

**_Six Months Later_**

_"__Dick…your message is freaking me out. What do you mean you're leaving? That you need time? Are you okay? We haven't spoken for days, and I know you destroyed your earpiece-." -_**Delete-. **

_"__If you don't think I'll call you everyday, Grayson, I will. You need to pick up now-."_ **-Delete-.**

_"__Don't make me bring Bruce into this. It's been two weeks. I gave you your time now and now you need to at least spare me three damn minutes-."_ -**Delete-.**

_"__I took the liberty of contacting the other Titans. There's no sign of you Dick and I need you to contact me…please…tell me where you are…why are you doing-."_ -**Delete-.**

_"__I spoke to Bruce. I don't know why I thought that was a good idea, as he seems to have no concern, saying you can take care of yourself. Both of you are just childish. I should have never let you leave. I'm so sick of your selfish-."_ -**Delete-.**

_"__Look…I'm sorry Dick…but it's been six months. I've left you tons of messages, I've stopped by your apartment, I even tracked down Haley's Circus. It's like you've disappeared. I know that maybe you don't want him in your life…maybe even me…but I need you. I need you to come back. To at least just hear your voice. Please, Dick."_

The boy's thumb hovered over the red button on his phone. He listened to the message once more, not for any sort of of nostalgia, and not to hear his friend's voice, but for any sign of danger. _I need you. _But the words were simply filled with feelings of regret and pain. No danger. Nothing he needed to keep her from. And so without a second's hesitation, he deleted it. Dick Grayson rose to his feet then, pushing his fingers through his thick black hair that had finally been tamed ever since leaving the Titans. He was exhausted, feeling the jet lag of his flight, but there was work to be done. The boy spent hours going over every inch of his small apartment, checking for any cameras or sensors that might have been placed by Barbara or Bruce. Nothing, to his surprise. But he knew if he dared turn his computer, it would alert the two instantly. And though he didn't care much if they knew he was home, he wouldn't have the time to explain anything. To explain where he had been. To explain what had happened six months ago.

After what Dick had seen, what he had been through, those days felt like years ago. Especially the flight back home. Dick could remember it clearly.

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><p><strong><em>Then<em>**

For the first time, Dick awoke slowly, comfortably, feeling himself moving but all he could think was that he was floating. Had it all been a dream? The kidnapping? Deathstroke? Captain Boomerang? Shifting himself, he realized he was in a large seat, and as he carefully opened his sensitive eyes, he realized he was sitting in a private jet. Brows furrowed, his head began to pound and there was no question as to why. How many times had he been hit in the head with a boomerang? Groaning, he rubbed the back of his head where a headache quickly formed, his eyes shifting towards the window to see the calm night sky that he had been soaring through.

"Mister Grayson." A woman's voice startled him, forcing him to look up at the blonde stewardess, flashing him a polite smile. "It's good to see you awake, Mr. Wilson wanted to make sure you took these." A glass of water was set down on the table in front of him, as well as two white pills. "You must be in a lot of pain." She commented.

The name startled him just as well, as everything suddenly came back to him. Jump City, the hotel, the manor. He felt sick, his body nearly reliving everything it had gone through. "There's a washroom in the back if you'd like to clean up, as well as some fresh clothes. I'll let you gather yourself while I put together your dinner." And with that the woman bowed her head and walked away. Dick's lips were parted, remembering the last moment he had been awake for. Slade and him, amongst a sea of bodies, both bloody and wounded, with the boy's arms around the mercenary's neck. His face went red at that, his heart thudding, and at the memory he quickly swallowed the pills and washed them down. _This is Slade's jet? _He then asked himself, looking around to see that near the front of the plane, the man sat by himself, unmoving, with a bandage over the eye that had been stabbed. Dick's gut wrenched at that. It had been his fault that the man was temporarily blind.

He couldn't seem to tear his eyes away, almost relieved that the assassin couldn't see the boy staring at him. His mind was flashing to the night the man had saved him, the words that were exchanged in the hotel, and the overwhelming joy he had when he realized they were both going to live. And above all, that Slade had listened to him…that he was able to spare Boomerang's life. From the moment the boy had seen the assassin on the train with him, he couldn't hate him anymore, couldn't despise the mask that tormented him and his friends. But as he looked at him now…there was a want… a _need _to speak to him. A willingness to understand. What Captain Boomerang had said, that Slade cared enough to save the boy, how could he deny that? Pretend it never happened? Slade was a killer, not a hero, despite his time in the military. And after seeing his potential, seeing him heal, seeing his tactics that he was sure not even Batman could come up with, he knew that he _was _something special. Something he had constantly underestimated.

And if a man like that, saw potential in _him? _Dick was more eager than ever. He felt important, despite his obvious weaknesses throughout their journey. If Deathstroke saw something in him, he would believe it.

Still the man unmoved, yet he didn't seem like he was sleeping. And so after a few moments, the boy stood, his body screaming but he fought against it, making his way towards the washroom where he quickly removed his clothes. His hand shot out to the wall for a moment, the movements, even as simple, caused him dizziness and it took him some time before he took a wet wash cloth and began to clean himself. He was grateful for that, as the cleanliness helped a bit as he was sure the medicine was as well. Afterwards he could see the set of clothes folded near the sink. Expecting them to be Slade's size, he was relieved when it wasn't, the shirt and sweatpants fitting him comfortably. The other clothes were stuffed into the trash, and with a breath he stepped back out into the cabin, his eyes looking to Slade again, tempted to go over to him, but his feet carried him back to his own seat where a sandwich and chips waited for him. "Call me if you need anything else." The woman said with a smile, waiting for him to sit down.

"Actually, could you tell me where we are?" Dick asked, looking up at the stewardess. "And…excuse my manners, your name as well."

"We took off a few hours ago from London to fill up. Our arrival in Jump City should be in about 8 hours. And you can call me Marie." She held her hand out and shook the boy's who let out a sigh, giving her a small smile.

"Sounds good, thank you, Marie." Another flick of his eyes at Slade before he looked to the ham sandwich in front of him. His body was craving food, famished and weak, yet he felt no hunger as he looked at it, but forced himself a few bites down. Staring out the window again, he let out a long breath, knowing he was going to have to face Barbara when he came back. And he wasn't ready for that. She would already be upset that he destroyed their communications, but when she found out about this?

Or rather, _if. _Why would she need to know, truly, what he had been up to? He was alive, in one piece. Of course, she would have a fit at the mention of Deathstroke. How many times had she tried to talk him out of simply letting him go? It was the movement of Slade's back that caught Dick's attention. His blue eyes moved to the mercenary who was now leaning back into his seat. He was awake, and at that the boy rose to his feet, ignoring his food and moving quietly towards the man. But he was stopped before he could reach him, a hand gently grabbing his shoulder.

"Perhaps later. Mr. Wilson is currently meditating." Marie's voice was heard behind him, and Dick found himself red again, not wanting to disturb the man who was probably in worse pain than he was. And when the boy found himself turning away, the familiar smooth voice stopped him.

"Let the boy sit with me, Marie. I'm nearly finished." He sounded focused, and it was then that it fully hit Dick that the man knew how to meditate. He could only imagine Raven's face if she ever knew. The two looked at each other, and Marie gave the boy a nod before walking away, allowing him to slowly and silently sit in the seat across from the man. His heart was beating hard and he felt himself grow uncomfortable hot. Was it the medicine? The lack of food?

"You're quiet." Slade noted. Dick found himself staring again, but couldn't stop himself, not when Slade couldn't see him observing the features of his face, and everything beneath it.

"I don't want to break your focus." Dick replied softly, his hands folding over his lap beneath the table.

"You won't." The man replied. And Dick believed it, yet still he could not bring himself to say anything. What could he say when his thoughts were scattered, his feelings misplaced? If Bruce had taught him anything important, it was to speak only when the mind was clear. And Dick's was far from that.

"To be honest, Slade…I…I don't know what to say." The boy then said, hoping the man would be understanding.

"No, but it doesn't take a blind man to see that you have a lot on your mind." Slade's lips curled into a smirk for a moment, a small scoff at his own words. "Well…I suppose it _does_, in our case." Dick pressed his lips at that, fighting off the smirk tempting to curl his own lips. "But I know it's been that way before Australia, boy. It's been that way since I first met you." Dick furrowed his brows at that, leaning back into his seat and thinking back to the moment he had first joined the Titans.

"How do you mean?" Dick then asked, watching Slade scoff and fold his arms against his chest.

"You know what I mean. Now say what's on your mind. All of it. Get it off your chest." The man ordered as if it was such a simple task.

"What? You want me to- I can't do that, Slade. I can't just- I don't know you-."

"And you've told the people that you _do _know?" Slade retorted. They both knew the answer to that. "Besides, I've no doubt theres something swimming around in there about _me_."

Dick took a breath at that. The man was right, as he always seemed to be, and with his eyes shifting back towards the window, he waited a few moments, trying to calm his heart before speaking.

"You saved me. When I came back to Jump City, you flashing that laser in my eye to get my attention." The boy started, his chin tilting down as if he hated admitting the words.

"So, you remember." The man said, his hand moving to his chin and stroking the white hair as he had done back in the hotel room. A nod of his head and he continued.

"And in the hotel…the things you said to me. The way you helped me without me knowing it. And at the manor, you saved me again. You were blind and somehow you managed…" Dick paused for a moment, watching the movements of Slade's fingers in his beard move slower. "Then when I asked you not to kill Captain Boomerang…Slade I'm conflicted. Ever since I met you, you have been the definition of what I'm not, of what I hated, of what I swore to never become. I hated you and I hated that mask. I hated Deathstroke, the man who threatened my friends, the man who nearly took out the Justice League. But somehow…all that hatred…all that certainty…it's gone. It's all just confusion. You saved me. You revealed things about yourself that I spent years desperately trying to find out. And you also showed me how weak I was. How my training has hardly done anything to help me. That perhaps the way I've looked at life…the way I've looked at others…has all just been distorted. By Batman. By the Titans. Even the Justice League…they all think a certain way, they all train you to be the same thing no matter the power. And I think… I think I'm just realizing now that I don't want to think like Bruce. I don't want to think like the Titans or the League…I don't even want to think like you." Another pause, his fingers were trembling slightly at all the weight he was pushing off his chest, and with a shaky breath he looked away once again..

"But I do want to think for myself. I do want to be able to control myself the way you do. You make it look so effortless, and now I know why. It's because whatever you do, it's for you. It's for your benefit, it's gone through your thought process. No one else's. I don't want to be Batman's Robin. I don't want to be part of the League and I don't want to be leader of the Titan's. All I want is to be Dick Grayson. I want to reach my full potential. I want to forget Nightwing. I want to forget Robin. I want to be me." And in that moment, Dick had felt better than he had in a long time. Speaking the words he was too afraid just to think. With another breath, he looked to Slade who continued stroking his beard, deep in thought and keeping silent. "God, I can't believe I'm telling you all of this." His cheeks turned red in realization, but he forced himself to keep going. "But I know now that if anyone will understand, if anyone will know how to help me it's you. I know that if I ever told anyone, Bruce, even the League, they'd just keep more of an eye on me than they already do. And you're eye…I'm so sorry…I should have been better-." He was losing his thought process then, but he silenced quickly when the sound of the bandage peeling off reached his ears.

Looking up, his lips parted at the sight of Slade's one eye, as good as new. As if nothing had even happened. "Fortunately, you weren't the one who stabbed me. So save the apology." Slade replied, nodding at Marie who was quick to come over and discard the bandage. In that moment, Slade relaxed back into his seat, crossing his arms and playing with his beard once again, his eye never leaving the boy's face. Dick was dying to know what the man was thinking, but forced himself to be patient, his fingers twisting beneath the table.

"You know, you're smarter than I thought." The man finally a spoke, a soft smile on his lips. Leaning forward, he crossed his arms over the table, staring more clearly at the boy. "And that _is _saying something." Dick's lips twitched at that, finding himself enjoying the praise that the man was giving him.

"I know that was a lot, and I don't expect you to just help me…I don't expect the answer to be easy. But there is one thing I want to know…I was only captured because Boomerang thought you cared about me. And I suppose…I suppose I understand how he could see that…I mean, you saved me on more than one occasion…and that blade to your eye, it was because you were looking out for me. So…why? Why did you do those things? Do you…do you actually care?" The boy hadn't meant to make it sound as if it was impossible for the man to feel anything, but in truth, it was exactly what he thought.

"Mm, there are many ways I could answer that question, Dick, in fact their are many _different _answers…some of which you'll find you already know. But I'll just say this:" And suddenly the man's fingers found their way beneath the boy's chin, lifting it in a way that was not forced, but simply encouraged. "You're _my _little bird, and no one else is allowed to kill you but _me_." Dick had the instinct to knock his hand away, but somehow found himself enjoying the firm touch. He wished Slade's eye was still covered so that he couldn't see the boy's widened eyes and red face. Dick wasn't entirely sure what the man meant…of course, that's what he wanted to think, but the stir of his stomach and the pounding of his heart told him otherwise. And with all the blood rushing through him, he couldn't even feel the man release him.

"I _am_ grateful, Slade." The boy forced himself to say, his eyes lowering, afraid to meat the grey and taunting one. And after a few moments of a thick silence, he could feel Slade move forward once again, forcing the boy's eyes to lift. And that's when his once greatest enemy, revealed Dick's path.

"As for everything else? For finding your true potential, for becoming someone you want to be? _Leave_. When we land, get on another plane. Go somewhere you've never been, somewhere _far_. Forget Jump City and Gotham…forget your friends, forget _me _and live. _Survive_. And once you've done that, once you've flushed out all the poison other's have forced you to swallow, you come back, and you find me." His face grew serious then. "And when you find me, you'll have _all _that you_ desire_."

And hours later, Dick found himself boarding a small plane to Nepal. He could remember looking over his shoulder, seeing the smirk plastered on Slade's lips. It encouraged him, yet at the same time, what he was about to do was going to change him. It was going to challenge him in ways he had not been yet. Leaving his friends, being alone with no money, no weapons and still being wounded. On the long flight there, all he kept thinking was that he was sentencing himself to death, that it would be impossible for him to survive. But he quickly remembered why he was going, and the man who had told him to do so. And in the next six months, Dick found that the mercenary was the hardest to forget. There was something twisting inside of him, something that forced him not to fail, to pick himself up, to impress the man who wasn't even there. Never would he have thought he'd ever want to impress him, but the more days that passed, the stronger the feeling felt. He didn't want to prove Slade wrong, he wanted to show him that he was special, that he was _worth_ saving.

The first two months were the hardest, as Dick expected nothing but the worst, but even that was putting it lightly. It was freezing, and as he walked through the small, nearly non-existent villages, he knew he couldn't speak to them. He couldn't ask for help, that wasn't the point of the trip. And for those weeks, he stayed close to a fire in the night, and wandered the same area in the day, knowing it was best to map out and understand where he was. But he quickly learned that doing so was just following Batman's rules, and although he would have gladly welcomed them, he knew it was not the way he wanted to live. When he had found a larger village, from following a dirt road a few miles, he nearly collapsed from the lack of nourishment . The only food he had eaten was the scrapping a few bystanders had offered him. And that was what hurt the most, as people offered him rides, shelter, and food. But he refused. He couldn't allow himself. He couldn't let it be that easy.

And so he studied the village, seeing the different jobs the people had, listening to the foreign language. He had found a butcher at one moment, and spent the whole day watching the workers break down animals, skinning them and chopping them. It made him sick, especially the idea of having to kill one. But the men didn't seemed bothered in the slightest. The next day he followed where they took the skin of the animals, watching some men and women boiling, and sewing, creating root-sacks, pelts, and to his surprise, pouches for different types of ammo and weapons. The next day he found where they sold such things, seeing guns available for sale, but it seemed what the people were interested in most was the bow and arrow. _Green Arrow would be proud. _Dick thought to himself, but quickly shook the thought away. _No. He's no one. No one matters here. _

Although he tried to follow that one rule, Slade continued to occupy his mind. Questions still lingered, but there was only one that rose above the others. _What will he find of me when I come back? _The third week, Dick was lost. He had been sleeping on the outskirt of the village, his ribs prodding through his skin, his wounds healed and yet he had felt worse than ever. And he was not the only one with such realization. In the night he was attacked. A snow leopard pouncing on him, nearly sinking its teeth into his jugular but Dick's instincts kicked in. An adrenaline pumped through him, something he hadn't felt ever since he arrived. It was dark, but he managed to fight the animal, though reluctantly. He didn't want to hurt the animal, but it was becoming clear that it was either he ended the situation, or the leopard would do it for him. Dick was on his back once again, his forearm at the neck of the animal, keeping it's strong jaws away while his other hand searched the ground around him until his fingers wrapped around a large rock.

Without thinking he knocked it into the cat's head, watching it stumble off of him. Before it could think to move again, Dick was on it, smashing the rock into its head and feeling it's blood splatter over the dirty clothes Slade had given him on the plane weeks ago. Breathing heavily, covered in blood, he finally stopped when the leopard was no longer moving. Dick realized he was crying, wondering if the animal had a family, cubs that were hungry. And was he wiped at his tears and felt a stinging on his arm where the animal had scratched him, he learned his first lesson. _Kill or be killed. _

There was a rustling behind him then, and as he looked over his shoulder he met the dark faces of a couple who stood with a torch, watching the boy. What was he to say? He already knew they couldn't speak the same language. But it seemed they didn't need to when they walked over to him and helped him up. The man had a rifle with him, but slung it behind his back, moving to the cat and picking it up over his shoulders. Dick found himself inside one of the homes, the woman talking to the man as the boy was soaking in a hot copper tub. It felt good, and the aroma coming from the kitchen even better. They let him bathe, even washed his clothes and gave him a warm meal. It was nothing with much flavor, but he devoured it regardless.

After allowing him to sleep next to the kitchen, the next day they woke the boy, speaking to him in the foreign language. He couldn't understand but he followed them outside and towards the butcher where he could see in full daylight the leopard he had killed. He tried not to look at its face, focusing on the coat that the other's seemed to marvel at. The man the turned to him then and pushed two fingers against Dick's chest where his heart was. "Fierce." the man then said, Dick's eyes widening in surprise and delight that he knew some English, or perhaps both languages shared the same word. The man then brought him over to the leopard, handing him a sharp knife Dick had never seen before. "Prize." The man then said, and Dick understood then what he was meant to do.

He learned to skin the animal, with the help of the butcher who tried his best to show and explain through movements and signals. The boy caught on quickly, and once it was skinned, the man kept the meat. It was then that the couple showed him how to finish his first pelt, cleaning the fur and the skin beneath. It took him three days to finish it, hoping he could turn it into a blanket for the night, but the skin was too small for a blanket, and so instead laces were tied at the neck, and the boy wore it over his shoulders, smiling widely at what he had learned. That same day when some of the villagers had come by to see the stranger and his new possession, the couple asked for his name, though it took some time before Dick finally understood.

"Dick." he replied, and he couldn't remember feeling so happy to say that name. Riea and Suraj, he learned, were the names of the couple that offered him shelter. The second month he had spent working for them and the village, learning how to hunt, with bow and arrow, a spear. The stealth he had learned helped, but the locals seemed to know more, and he embraced the new knowledge. They all took to him, including the girls who he could socialize with only a bit, but it was simply nice to speak to others, to learn, to do things differently, and in a way, he loved that he could communicate without having to think so much. And though it was getting easier and easier to forget about everyone else at home, Slade still lingered in his mind. He wished he could show the man, tell him what he had learned. But he wasn't ready, not even close to go home. One day, after a long night of hunting, Dick found himself by a small pond, looking at his reflection in the water. He looked different, with the sides of his head shaved and the long black hair combed back. The leopard always on his shoulders, and he no longer the clothes that he came with, only the ones he had made. And as he looked at himself, he realized that it was time to move on.

He knew how to hunt, to make clothes, to seek shelter. He knew the danger signs in the wild, and he knew how to protect himself. Now was the time to do just that. It was heartbreaking for him to say goodbye to Riea and Suraj, and he promised them he would return. He refused to take anything else with him besides his clothes and a bow and arrow. From then on, he was on his own. And through the next few months, he battled sickness, fought off animals three times his size, healed his own wounds, and learned to meditate. Twice a day he would give himself the time to sit and clear his thoughts, to flush his fears and anything prodding at his mind. Everyday he could feel himself growing stronger, both his body and spirit. He felt alive, as if he had just been living for the first time. There were times he was tempted to return to the village, to sleep indoors, to have someone to speak to. But as time went on, those temptations were soon controlled.

It wasn't until months later that the boy had been meditating one morning, only to open his eyes and see that the sun had been setting, that he realized he was ready to go home. He was ready to seek out Slade. And the idea of seeing the mercenary again, the mere thought of telling the man how right he was, was enough to get Dick through the last month of work he had forced himself to do to earn the money for a flight home. The boy was sure he would feel sad for leaving the country, yet he stopped the emotion from being, and knew that it was simply a good thing. He was so pleased with himself that as he wandered the airport his connecting flight had stopped at, he didn't even mind the looks everyone had been giving him for his clothes which he soon changed once the opportunity presented itself. Now in jeans and a shirt, he folded his pelt neatly into his bag, his skin rising at the feeling of air conditioning, something he hadn't felt in so long.

"How will I know how to find you?" Dick remembered asking Slade as they walked the tarmac. "Will you be in Jump City?" Slade simply smiled.

"Don't worry boy, I'll make it easy for you. Trust me, I'll be the_ first _person to know once you step foot in the States."

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><p><strong><em>Now<em>**

Dick had been sitting on the edge of his bed, his hand petting the soft fur of his pelt while his mind slowly put together that he was back home. He knew he had to find Slade, but where was he supposed to look? The boy sighed softly and set the pelt down, rising to his feet and moving over to his closet where a heavy black box sat. Kneeling down, he opened it and pulled out his Nightwing uniform, something that meant nothing to him anymore. And as his fingers moved over the material, he froze and realized where the mercenary was, a small smile creeping onto his face. He would need to make adjustments to his uniform, as he refused to wear anything the old Dick Grayson would. But for now, spray painting the blue, that lined his chest and sleeves, black would have to do for now. And after pulling it on, noting that he would need a larger size, he made his way out of the apartment and to Jump City: where Slade would await him at Titan's Tower.

Dick remembered the moment Cyborg had shut the tower down, destroying all files and keeping the security live. It was barren, dark and cold, even the gardens of the island itself. When he moved to the front door to deactivate the security, seeing that it had already been dealt with, he knew he was in the right place. Climbing the stairs and easily fighting off the memories trying to fill his mind, he kept his guard up and listened closely to his surroundings. After entering the main room, where everything seemed to be lit by the fullness of the moon, he wandered around quietly, curious as to if he was supposed to do or say something. But as if he were hunting, he stayed quiet, trying to settle the excitement within his stomach.

"_Welcome back." _the voice made him freeze up as it had been whispered behind him. He was too slow to block the staff that swung at his head once he looked over his shoulder to see the familiar black and copper mask. Dick was quick to get back up, smirking despite the pain subsiding in his head. "You look different." The man commented, stalking forward.

"I _feel _different." Dick lunged at the man then, striking at him, ducking the staff and using his higher surroundings to get above the man who seemed ready for every attack. But not once did Dick's smirk fade.

"But your technique is the same." The end of the staff delivered a hard blow to the boy's chest, forcing him onto his back but not for long.

"_And _I still couldn't hear you coming. I guess I have a lot to learn." The boy admitted, slowly moving to his feet. Slade tilted his head, as if confused at Dick's words.

"Hm, I'm not so _sure _I'm speaking to Dick Grayson now." The man teased, clearly acknowledging the blatant difference int he boy who had left half a year ago. One last strike while Dick thought the man had let his guard down, only to have his wrist caught within the mercenary's crushing grip.

"Trust me, you are." the boy replied, his smile suddenly fading when the man pulled at his wrist, nearly sending himself into his broad chest. Dick looked up at him, wide-eyed and heart racing, unsure of what he was going to do. But the assassin's free hand simply moved to the boy's uniform, swiping his forefinger across the still wet paint. Dick tinged slightly at that.

"I suppose I am. You_ have _changed, haven't you?" It was then that Slade reached up and pulled off his mask, revealing the handsome face that smirked down at him, his dark eye filled with amusement. "Well then, I think we've got some _catching up_ to do."

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><p><strong>So in reference to Dick's time in Nepal: I didn't want to go too too into it, as parts will come up in future chapters. Also, I try to stay as close to the comicstv show as much as I can (aside from timelines which is a bit hard to keep up with considering the different stories and universes), so if something seems way way off, please let me know! And as always, reviews are most welcome! **


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N:The positive feedback on my last chapter was insanely inspiring as I was writing this one! I feel bad that a lot of you guest-review, especially when you give me such great responses and there's no way for me to really respond unless I do it here (which I won't specifically, because I'd rather leave the space you see for the story)but I will make an exception for the guest reviewer who pointed out my typos! I fixed them ASAP thanks to you! As well as**** tialuvssladin101**** who asked if there will be smut in this story, and the answer is: yes, a lot of it ;) but we won't be getting to that just yet, there's still development that needs to happen. With that being said, THANK YOU AGAIN! You guys are awesome, seriously, and I wish I had put this up faster but hopefully the length will make up for it. Enjoy!**

**Summary: Nightwing awakes prisoner next to the man who has haunted him for years: Slade Wilson. They are forced to work together to get out of their situation, and all the while Nightwing must accept some things that may just break the bird completely.**

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><p>When Dick and his parents had been traveling with the circus, he had come across thousands of faces; the audience, businessmen, the friends and family of his 'circus family', meeting people of all shapes and sizes, showing off different abilities. A man who claimed he had a drop of Kryptonian in him, a woman who could bend her body as if her bones were made of rubber, even the reptilian man the circus would recruit for their performances in Miami would drop the boy's jaw. Every day was exciting. Every day he learned something, met someone new, and listened to stories his young mind couldn't begin to fathom. But the passion, the look that filled wide eyes, and forced one's heart to ache, helped the boy could see and understand that. It was the same feeling as flying through the air, being caught by his father's strong hands after being swung beneath the tent by his mother. Every moment of his life then, beamed with excitement. The boy was filled with a fire that never seemed to smolder.<p>

What the boy didn't understand, was that his life was unlike many other children's. Sure they would be seated on the opposite side of the ring, but surely, Dick thought, they had met exciting people he had yet to meet, that they had done something they loved as much as he did while he was on the trapeze. This was, of course, before one winter years ago, when Dick was invited to stay the night at a boy's house. Riley, was the name, and Riley was the child of one of John and Mary Grayson's closest friends. Dick could remember the car ride there very clearly, trying desperately to contain his excitement, wondering what new things he would learn and see. What adventures him and Riley might go on. And Dick Grayson did learn something that day: _disappointment_. Riley's life was stark, and to Dick's surprise, it seemed that it was everyone else's way of life. The boy didn't need to be convinced, as he took a look around the street they had been kicking a ball around on. The houses the same, the families, the cars. There were no acrobats, reptilian men or women who could bend in different ways.

As he grew older, it became evidently clear to him that his way of life was nowhere near the norm. And when he realized that the kids his age couldn't relate to him, didn't even want to _know _him, he wondered if perhaps he would be stuck in the circus all of his life. That he would meet all the same people over and over again, that he would never learn anything more. And he feared the disappointment, from his circus family, from his parents, from the kids he'd never known, and with his expectations for life. The boy didn't want his fire to go out. He wanted to be happy, as happy as he was in the air, even if it was simply walking down the street. But how could those things be realistic when his whole lifestyle was the exact opposite for the whole world watching him? The fire smoldered for a while. When his parents died. When he slowly separated from Batman. And when he left the Titans.

But in that same tower, in the room his team gathered in to spend time with each other, to research and complete missions, that fire was _back_. Filling his every being as he stood in front of the large windows looking out to the water and the city just behind it. His form animated as he paced back and forth, explaining in detail of his adventures in Nepal. Slade Wilson was sitting on the couch in front of him, his feet up on the table, arms crossed, a smug look on his face as he eyed the boy. Dick was excited to be reliving the events in his mind, even the terrible ones. He was eager to show Slade what he had learned, that the man was right in sending him away, that he felt like a new person entirely, and yet all that same time, he felt himself.

"I don't know why I was so against them before. I mean, the _precision_, the cleanliness of it all." Dick added as he spoke of his time learning to properly use a bow and arrow, still pacing back and forth, his hand constantly moving through the top part of his hair. Slade noted that quickly, wondering where the excitement and nervousness was coming from. Of course, the boy had been without real conversation in some time, and he was sure that this was the most he had spoken since their last encounter. There was part of Slade that also thought over their situation, as the man could remember the look on Dick's face on the plane. The face of confusion, of desperation, and above all, _need. _He wondered where the boy stood on what had happened, as well as looking forward, but by the way his eyes constantly looked away, and the fingers combing his hair over and over, the mercenary had a good guess.

"Hm. That explains the hair." Slade's dark eye studied the boy once again, and Dick could feel his cheeks go red, feeling as if he were under a microscope that moment. Another brush of his fingers and he cleared his throat, about to explain but there was soon no need too. "To feel the wind, of course. And I'm sure the ladies didn't complain." The man teased, and at that, Dick smirked turning away and looking out across the water, hiding the look on his face as well as still trying to control his excitement. "And I can answer that simply for you, Dick. You didn't like them because they were fatal…and last time I checked, blood wasn't really your thing. Remember? Made a fuss about Boomerang, _I _ended up with a knife in my eye…" Dick rolled his eyes and smirked, turning around and walking towards the table where Slade's legs were kicked up. The boy knew that six months ago, he would be struggling with himself, fighting the enjoyment he was feeling of being in the man's presence. But he had fully accepted it now. He accepted Slade's intentions in helping him, he accepted the man's advice, and he certainly accepted the pleased look on the assassin's face that had only proved to Dick that Slade was happy.

"You know I'd still feel bad about that, but rubbing it in is only helping me not to." Dick teased with a raise of his brows and cross of his arms, finally meeting the man's eye without instantly tearing his own away. Dick thought how strange it was that he found himself trusting the mercenary after all these years, that he enjoyed being in his company, feeling as if he had purpose once again. And yet, they had not spoken or seen each other in so long, there had always been the thought of if Slade would even be alive when he returned. How foolish it was of him to think such a thing, as he had seen first hand what the man was capable of.

"You? Feel bad for _me_? That's cute, Robin. Who was it again spending their time in a third-world country, starving and hunting for rabbits while the other hunted people and came home to a warm meal every night?" Slade's dark humor would have stumped the boy, but the name the man's voice had breathed forced his hands to clench.

"I'm _not _Robin." And suddenly the energy in him began to shift, nearly sick at the way the name tasted in his mouth. Slade grinned wickedly at that.

"No. No you're not." The mercenary got to his feet at that and rounded the table towards Dick who was suddenly alert at the man's stalking figure. "But old habits die hard, I suppose. I can't help wanting to get a_ rise_ out of you." The man teased again, his form inches away from Dick's. "And I'll take back what I said…" his voice fell off for a moment as he then walked around the boy, his eye looking him up and down. "Rabbits are clearly not _all _you ate." Their arms touched briefly as Slade made his way back to the front of the boy who was gawking up at him, trying to keep his mouth shut as he internally panicked. Dick had not forgotten Slade's insinuation on the plane, or at least, what he had assumed it to be, and he didn't need to look to feel the man's eye burning into his flesh. And with all of his strength mustered together, he controlled the mix of feelings rising inside of him, enough to press his lips into a small smirk.

"And clearly _you_ should be adding some to your diet." Dick quipped at the man, watching as his eyebrow rose in slight surprise, as well as delight. A dark chuckle ensued, and Slade found his hand beneath the boy's chin, lifting it and giving it a light stroke with his thumb.

"I see you haven't lost your _remarkable_ sense of humor." The mercenary replied dryly, sarcasm dripping from his teeth, with a smirk and amusement dancing in his eye.

"'Old habits die hard.'" The boy repeated, tempted to further lean into the warm gloved hand of the man who handled his chin delicately. Another chuckle and Slade titled his head slightly, his eye narrowing.

"I'm curious, boy…" He began slowly, Dick's chin still encased within the man's fingers. The boy could feel his cheeks begin to redden, and thanked the darkness silently for hiding it. "…if your intentions are still the same?" A hard swallow at that, lips parting when the man then moved passed Dick and towards the window, the absence of his towering form allowing Dick to breathe easier.

"H-How do you mean?" The boy asked, curious himself despite the presumptions in his mind.

"What I mean is: there isn't an_ ounce_ of me that believes you would take to killing an animal so easily." Dick nearly sighed in relief at his explanation to where this was all going, until he realized where it _was _going. Slade folded his arms behind his back, continuing to stare out at the city while Dick stood a few feet away, watching him. "I only wonder what went through your mind when you killed that leopard. And anything else after that." Dick knew exactly what Slade wanted to know, although he had been beating around the bush. The man wanted to know if Dick had taken a liking to drawing blood. To taking life. And though it had certainly changed the tone of their conversation, the boy could understand his interest, and only worried that his answer may not please the mercenary.

"I was afraid…for a long time." Dick answered softly, thinking back to that night six months ago. "Afraid that killing the beast had changed me. That it was wrong…that my parents were staring down at me in disgust. But I was defending myself. I would have been killed if I didn't do it. And it did get easier…it was normal there…I -it's normal in a lot of places." Dick remembered the way he smashed in the leopard's head, tasting the blood in his mouth as hot streams of tears rolled down his cheeks.

"It sounds like you are trying to convince yourself." Slade noted, his feet carrying him towards the boy before stopping a few inches away. Dick nodded. He had to convince himself everyday.

"I realized it was just survival. And I told myself that with a rabbit as well, when I was starving. And the bear, when the nights were too cold for even fire to keep me warm." Dick let out a breath, prepared for the worst before moving his fingers through his hair once again. "I guess the answer is yes. My intentions are the same. I'm not looking to…to kill anyone. I'm sorry." The last words slipped out before he could stop them, and he felt his chest tighten at the sound of Slade's short laugh.

"And why is it that you are apologizing to me, boy?" The man mused, his arms folded across his broad chest.

"I…I don't- I didn't mean to-."

"Did you think I was expecting some killing machine to return to me?" Slade asked as Dick stepped away, feeling ridiculous for making the presumption. But it was too late to deny it now, and as he stared at the ground, back turned to the man, he held his temples between thumb and forefinger and cringed at his own honesty.

"No…I thought you'd be _hoping _for it." The boy answered, half expecting a metal staff to be thwacked across his head.

"You make me sound terrible when you say it like that." Slade scoffed with more amusement, clearly enjoying the reaction he was getting out of the boy. "Though I suppose you've all the reason to assume, don't you?"

"It's not that…I was expecting much…or that I was thinking the worst of you I just….I didn't want you to be disappointed with me."

"Disappointed? Surely my lasting impression before you left was quite the opposite of our meeting on the train. My only expectation for you was knowledge. I wanted you to learn. And you did. Of survival, culture, and even rebirth, for you are not the Dick Grayson I remember." Slade's voice explained smoothly, almost soothing Dick's self-wounded pride.

"That's because the Dick Grayson you knew was just a facade. A creation made by someone else." Dick explained solemnly. "He's gone now."

"Gone? No, I don't think so. But broken down and built back up with finer edges? Yes, but I know that somewhere deep inside you, there's a little boy _dying _to lunge at me." Dick couldn't help but chuckle, his grin widening at the thought. Who knew the mercenary had such a sense of humor? "You know, I could relate you to the Pheonix, who ignites its decaying body only for its spirit to be reborn from the ashes. But, I'm assuming we're keeping away from the bird names?" Dick continued to smile, nodding his head before looking up at the man.

"No…I like that." The boy replied, watching as the man's fingers twisted within his white beard thoughtfully.

"Good. And for the record, Dick." Slade then moved towards him yet agin, his hand moving from his beard to the boy's hair, pushing his fingers through it before sliding them down the back of his shaved nape until the large palm rested on his neck. The boy nearly shivered at the feeling, his own body moving closer on its own accord. "You haven't disappointed me in the slightest."

And that's all Dick needed to hear in that moment to relax, to trust the man in front of him. And when the mercenary slid his hand from the boy's neck and made to move, Dick followed silently. Obediently.

"You'll be needing to catch up with your sleep and nutrition. Despite your obvious growth, it's time to put more than rabbit back on the menu." Slade explained as he began leading the boy through the tower, as if he had known it better than himself. Perhaps he had.

"Don't need to tell me twice. I've been dying to sink my teeth into something normal." The man snickered at that, looking over his shoulder as he continued to walk.

"I don't _doubt_ it." After they had both fallen silent, Dick still eager to prove his worth, he began wondering why it was that they were at Titans Tower, and where the man was leading him. It was until Dick had passed his old room that forced him to stop in his tracks, his bright blue eyes observing the door. He couldn't remember the last time he was in it, and there was certainly a strong craving stirring within him, albeit he had forgotten the boy who lived in that room deep within his mind. But curiosity got to him and he found himself opening the door, his eyes narrowing as if to see the room better beneath its cover of darkness. Stepping onto the threshold, his hand slid up the wall to, flipping the light switch up and watching the dim lights bring clear vision to his bed and the large table in the middle of the room. The walls were covered in newspaper clippings, none of them victories or anything to brag about, and must of them showed the mask of the man who had silently been watching him as he leaned against the door frame.

A few steps further and Dick was now looking over the table that seemed untouched, a few of his old and broken gadgets laying beneath a film of dust. The boy's hand moved to lift one of them up, a broken hook to a grappling gun. It was then that he could feel Slade's presence, his eye watching him, and as he continued looking over the gadget, he cleared his throat. "Then, it felt normal. Gathering all the information I could about you, pinning it up, putting pieces together, analyzing anything that had even touched you." He could remember the way the hook had shattered against Deathstroke's armor. His face went red then. "I was no different than a girl obsessing over her favorite boy-band." Dick nearly face palmed at the realization, but kept his gaze on the hook.

Slade broke the tension with a chuckle, though, stepping further into the room and letting his eye roam around the walls decorated with his name and mask. "You were driven." The man replied, as if he were defending the boy's actions. "It's your most impressive asset. Besides, I didn't mind it one bit." Dick glanced up and smirked at the man for the words, his eyes flicking back down before he set the hook on the table and gave one last look at the room.

"What are we doing here, anyway? I mean…that is…what do I do _now_? I went on the trip, and you told me that when I came back-."

"'You would have everything that you desired'." The man finished, folding his hands behind his back as he looked at the young man. "My word is my _bond_, Dick, you'll learn that quickly if you haven't already. With that being said, the question is simple: what _is_ it that you desire?"

_"__Robin? Did you not hear my question?" The boy hadn't, as his fingers were still holding his jaw, his eyes studying the breakage of the grappling hook. _

_"__Hm…no, Starfire. I'm sorry but I'm just busy right now. Can it wait until later?" Robin hadn't even bothered to turn and look at the alien who's lips creased into a frown. _

_"__Of course, Robin. But you are always busy, and I fear that you will not speak to me then, either." The girl was able to break his attention at that, forcing him to frown and turn around to face her standing hesitantly at his door._

_"__Listen, Star. I'm sorry…I really am, but there are still things that need to be done, that need to be learned about this madman. Our jobs are to keep this city safe, and we can't do that until we find out who Deathstroke is." The boy explained, trying not to sound too harsh. But the girl did not take that excuse, her eyes shifting to the walls around him._

_"__I understand. But like many jobs your people have on this planet, there is also time for rest. Time for your friends." Robin scowled at that, swiftly turning around and moving back towards the table where his attention turned back to his broken gadget. _

_"__I don't have time. Not when he's out there. Not when I can stop him." But the boy was no longer talking to the green-eyed girl, his attention shifting to the mask hanging on his wall. Starfire let out a sigh at that._

_"__We will stop him. But I am not so sure this is for the city, Robin." And with that, the girl left him in solitude._

Starfire had been something Dick had thought he desired for a long time. But his temptation for different, for strange and unknowing was what had truly lured him towards her. Just as Bruce was someone he desired to fill the void for his parents. Someone to take care of him, to guide him, to encourage him. But now?

"That's not such a simple question." Dick replied, setting down the broken hook and resting his fists on the table.

"The question is _very_ simple, Dick. We all _desire_ things. It's _sharing_ in them that makes the answer so hard." The man explained, his brows rising as he studied the boy who seemed to fluster. "And from what I've always known about you, sharing isn't quite your _forte_, is it?"

"I just…I don't know, okay? What I do know is that I want to start over." Dick then said, a motivation strong in his voice as he lifted his chin and looked to the man. "I want to be the best that I can be. I want to learn more, I want to know things that _no one_ else does." And as he continued to speak, something began to rise inside of him, something that made his jaw clench and his fists tighten. "I want to have purpose. I want to be _respected_."

_"__Respect is earned. You don't earn respect by leading with emotion, and criminals don't give a damn what you want. They are selfish. And if you treat them any differently then you will be nothing to them."_

_"__You're so full of it Bruce! You think that the only way to earn respect is by striking fear into the hearts of others? By forcing them into submission? You're no better than they are. And if you think it's respect that they have for you, maybe you should be the one in Arkham." Robin had thrown off his mask, storming after Batman who had taken his cowl off and headed towards the computer. _

_"__My methods haven't failed me yet, but I can't say the same for you, Dick. I trained you better than this. What I do is the only way we can serve justice in Gotham. We make an example. If you're not willing to do the work my way, you might as well join G.C.P.D. and try getting your 'respect' there." The boy nearly screamed with anger, but instead shoved at the man's back, growling as he felt the stinging in his eyes._

_"__Torture is what you call justice? Crippling petty thieves who simply work for those you can't catch? You're nothing short of a bully. And all I can think of are my parents, how disgusted they must be to watch me stand by while I let you do something unthinkable. I can't imagine what yours-." But before he could finish the sentence, the man's fist connected with the boy's jaw, sending him to the ground with blood filling his mouth. The cave went eerily silent, and not event he buzz of computers running could be heard. Dick could hardly even whimper at the pain as he slowly picked his head up from the ground. _

_"__Enough. See yourself to your rooms." The man said coldly, walking off until he finally reached the computer, ignoring anything else. _

"And I don't want expectations from people I don't know. I'm _sick_ of being the hero. I'm sick of allowing anyone else to_ judge _who I am." His voice grew colder as his mind thought back to the cave, to that first sever of connection between him and the multi millionaire. "And I don't want to be in this _stupid_ tower!" With a flash of rage, Dick slammed his fists down on the table, breaking it in half before moving towards the dormant computer. "I don't want to _see_ or _hear_ about the Titans ever again!" The monitor shattered from the quick strike of his foot, forgetting that the man was even standing in the room as his rage only grew. "I want Barbara to stay out of _my_ life!" His hand swiped across the wall, tearing down the article clippings.

_"__I'm not going back. I hate it. It's boring. It's useless." Dick folded his arms and sat back in his chair, pouting slightly and avoiding the girl's gaze._

_"__Useless? Dick, it's a great school. And you should be grateful, Bruce is paying for it. Do you know how many people in Gotham who are in their thirties and still paying off loan debt?" Barbara turned herself around and gave Dick a look, one that only reminded him of the playboy. _

_"__Grateful? I didn't ask to go. There are other ways to learn. Besides, what's a degree going to do when I have my uniform on? I'm not sure Freeze would drop his gun at the sight of my Bachelor's." _

_"__It's an opportunity. Bruce is giving your a doorway to a life you haven't known, to make your own decision on what you want to do with it." She explained as if it were obvious._

_"__You're kidding, right? Giving me a choice? He forced me to go! All he wants is to give me a mask, just like the one he wears in daylight. This is for his benefit. For our smartest ally, you should have known that." _

Blue eyes flashed at one article in that moment of anger. His body heating, his muscles flexing, his teeth gritting at the sight of the Batman. It was then that he lost control, his blood pounding and his mind racing with all the memories swarming within his mind. "And I sure as _hell _don't. Want. TO. BE. _BATMAN_!" Dick shouted, his fist going through the article and the wall behind it, his arm elbow deep into the plaster.

Breathing heavily, Dick felt himself nearly black out from his rage, his chest heaving and his dark locks sticking to his damp forehead. There was a thick silence in to the air and for a moment the boy had forgotten there was another presence in the room. And when he realized where all of his words had come from, why all the stress was suddenly released, he slumped to his knees and hid his face into his hands, fighting back the tears and not wanting Slade to see him so vulnerable. But the man saw exactly that. Slade had not moved a muscle as he watched the boy go on his rampage. It was exhilarating for him to watch, to see the true strength and emotion the boy possessed. It had also given him a clear idea of what Dick wanted from Slade, and where he stood on his past. After a few moments, the mercenary slowly strode over to the boy, kneeling beside him and sliding his hand over the connection of his neck and shoulder.

"_I _respect you." Slade then said, his fingers giving the boy a squeeze. "For challenging yourself in Nepal, for fighting other's attempts in controlling your life, and _admittedly_, for challenging me all those years. It was a death wish, and you played by the rules _every _time. You _intrigue_ me, Dick. There is more to you than meets the eye. And I can assure you that if you would allow me…I could _give_ you what you wanted. I could guide you in the right direction. And once I've helped you find yourself, you won't need to repress those emotions, those thoughts and memories that keep slipping through your mind. You will just _be." _

Dick felt ashamed to appear so weak in front of the man, but his words were tempting, and he knew that the mercenary would help as he had said six months ago. "Then show me…Slade…please. You were right before. God, you were probably always right. I'll do whatever I need to." He had turned to face the man then, looking into the cold grey eye. He was desperate, but even more desperate to prove himself, to forget his old life and continue with the new one he had created. And Slade had nearly drank up the words the boy was breathing, loving his eagerness and the will to please. _That _was something Deathstroke had desired, and he knew all to well the satisfaction of getting what one wants.

"Come." The man said, helping the boy to his feet and leading him out of the disaster of the room. After a while of silence they found themselves in the basement of Titan's Tower, that seemed to be the only lively room. It was no longer used for storage, and instead seemed to be put to use by Slade. A training facility. A super computer. Dick's lips parted in shock.

"You've been…staying _here_?" The boy asked, stepping forward and letting his eyes take in the floor-sized obstacle course.

"Not quite. I built it for_ you_. I have a few different…_residences _around the city. But I figured it would be best to meet on…_neutral_ grounds." The man explained, folding his arms against his chest and taking pride in his work as he eyed the vicinity along with the boy.

"It's…_amazing_." Dick breathed, stepping forward and tempted to try out everything in the room. "But I don't understand…why here? Why the Tower?" Especially after he had just torn apart a room in anger of it.

"Because I will teach you to _control_ your emotions, Dick. You hate this place, you are emotionally connected to it, it, in part, helped you put a hole through that wall. But when_ I _train you, there will come a time where you will walk into this tower and think no more of it than you would a vacant building. It will mean _nothing _to you. It won't hold any power over you. Do you understand?"

"Yes." The boy replied, and he had. Completely. It was then that he could feel the stinging in his hand and wrist from the damages he had done. With a stretch of his fingers, he began to fully realize what he was doing. There had been no guidelines, no deals, no threats, but he had signed himself a contract with Slade Wilson. There was no turning back, and Dick knew that as soon as he stepped off of the plane in Nepal.

"What do you get out of this, Slade? What's in it for you? Why go out of your way to help me?" The boy turned to the man, asking sincerely as his blue eyes studied the hard face.

"There is no going out of my way, Dick. This _is _my way. _You _are my way. I was meant to have you by my side. To train you. To prove your potential. From the moment I learned of you, I knew it to be true." Slade moved towards the boy, their eyes locking, and Dick found himself unable to breathe. "What I get out of it, Dick? I'm going to get what _I _desire."

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><p><strong>Kind of rushed the ending there, so I'm sorry if it's not the best or if it's choppy or anything, I might go back and revise and do an update but who knows. Reviews are appreciated! <strong>


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N: So HUGE shout out to one of my guest reviewers who has been pointing out my grammar mistakes, totally appreciated! Also, something you brought up, all my chapters are up to date, the reason why there are like 3 less is because I combined 4 of them into 2 (the prologue chapters) and also remastered them a bit. I didn't mean to confuse anyone, so I apologize if I did! Also, I'm sorry this chapter took so long to post, I've been busy with work and I also had a bit of writer's block. And fair warning yet again: it's really late and I've no doubt there are going to be a ridiculous amount of mistakes, so I apologize in advance! Anyway, thanks to all of you who have been reading and I hope you've been enjoying the story! As well as those who have reviewed/favorited/followed me, you certainly help the inspiration! **

**Summary: Nightwing awakes prisoner next to the man who has haunted him for years: Slade Wilson. They are forced to work together to get out of their situation, and all the while Nightwing must accept some things that may just break the bird completely.**

Tim Drake had been in deep thought, his fingers entwined and pressed against his lips as he was slumped in his chair, staring up at the monitor in front of him. Cassandra Sandsmark was not far away, the both of them had abruptly ended their conversation by the blinking red dot on the large screen. The both of them nearly had the same mind not to move, as if frozen by an unknown fear.

"I thought the tower was offline." Cassandra finally said, her eyes shifting to Tim who still had not breathed a word. A sensor in the tower had gone off, despite its vacant presence on the island across the country.

"It is. Cyborg shut everything down when they left." The boy finally answered, leaning forward and further studding the three-dimensional tower on the screen.

"Except the security, it seems." The blonde retorted, crossing her own arms and moving behind Tim's seat. "Some curious kid? Someone looking for information?"

"No…Cyborg's security is still up. If someone broke in, the whole city would know. Some one _signed in._" Tim explained, furrowing his brows and scratching at his jaw.

"Then what's the problem? One of the older members are probably reminiscing, maybe even using the gym. Who cares?" Cassandra then said after she realized there would be no excitement that night. It was then that Tim brought up another screen, a picture of Nightwing and his Titan file suddenly on display before them, leaving the blonde's jaw to drop and her eyes to widen.

"He's _back_."

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><p>Dick had gone wide-eyed, his lips parting at the man's words that kept repeating in his head. He could feel his face turn bright red, his heart pounding hard, and his body radiating a panicking heat. It was growing harder to breathe properly, as if the room was suddenly lacking oxygen. <em>I don't understand, <em>Dick wanted to breathe in hesitation, but the boy understood all too perfectly. And that was what scared him the most, as the boy had known and yet still continued in his journey. Perhaps he had wanted the same thing…perhaps he had just needed a little push. But as he looked back to the man's grey eye, he saw a look of concern, his brow raising curiously.

"Something the matter, Dick?" The man asked, as if he had not said something so unexpected, and studied the boy who took a step back and put a hand to his own forehead.

"Yeah…I…_what_ did you say?" The boy looked at Slade from beneath his brows, afraid the man might see through his pretense but the man simply nodded.

"I said: There_ is_ no going out of my way, Dick. This_ is _my way. It has always been hard not to see the fire you possess when you fight. I can help you achieve more than you could ever imagine. There is nothing more that I can truly _learn_, but there is so much that I have to _teach_." Slade continued to study the boy uncertainly. "You could say that it is, perhaps, one of my desires." Dick let out a breath at that, pushing his hair back for a moment as he realized his own mind had conjured up the man's response. Did he _want _Slade to say those things?

"I believe your lack of proper nourishment is beginning to get to you." Slade then suggested, a small smirk forming on his lips as he rested a hand on the boy's shoulder.

"I think you're right." The boy admitted, soon able to calm himself before letting out a few breaths and lifting his head to look at the man. "Sorry. I…I really appreciate this, Slade. You don't-." But his words had been cut off then by the man who broke eye contact and looked above them.

"It sounds like we have _company_." The man said as Dick began to boil, his jaw clenching as he heard the same sounds the assassin did. The echoed patter of footsteps reached the boys ears and he let out a growl, only imagining who it could have been. _I should have never signed in. _But the boy's mind had been elsewhere at the time, and he knew he could not let a mistake like that happen again. "You should go up there." Dick was pulled from his thoughts then, realizing Slade had been studying his fuming features.

"What's the point? I don't want to see any of them." Moving away, he folded his arms against his chest, counting his second mistake as he was sure that his ignorance must have pissed the mercenary off. To his surprise, it didn't.

"The same point as coming to this tower. Like I said, over time it will be _nothing_ to you. They _know_ you're here. There's no reason to hide. Besides, if you run they'll only chase you. And haven't you learned by now that it's simply better to _give in_?" The boy's cheeks went red once again, and the color deepened when a large hand was felt at the small of his back, pushing to guide him towards the large doors.

"Who's to say I've really given in just yet?" Dick then challenged without thinking, turning his head to the side and watching the man smirk. "I may find that city life isn't for me, and book the next flight back to Nepal." A chuckle was then heard and the hand on his back gently squeezed at the firm flesh.

"I think that once you sleep in an actual_ bed_ tonight, you won't be booking any flights for a while. And just as well, as I'm not planning on giving _you_ up anytime soon." Those words made Dick's inside's twist, his heart thudding and he could feel the same overwhelming sensation he had only moments before, begin to come back to him. _What is wrong with you? _

"You're right." Dick scoffed, stopping and turning towards the man who who dropped his hand from the boy. "But I think it'll be a burger that keeps me from going back." He clutched his stomach at that, listening to the man chuckle yet again.

"In _any_ case, you require both. Now, run a long. I'll expect you here, tomorrow, in the afternoon. And before you start raising any more suspicions, take this." A black key card was then handed to him. "I made my own door." the man explained with a smug look before nodding his head towards the door. "Now, _go_."

Dick hesitated for a moment, realizing there were still so many questions to ask, but he did not want to refuse the man, especially when there was someone above them who needed tending to first. With a curt nod, Dick turned and made his way out of the underground compound and up the stairs where he was suddenly in hunting mode. Crouched and silent, his eyes sharp as he looked for the visitor. It was when he climbed back up the tower and back to the room Slade had attacked him in, that he saw a flash of red.

"…Bart?" The boy then said aloud, standing up straight with a crooked smile on his face. A genuine one. Before he could even see his friend, his arms were wrapped around him, crushing him against his body. And Dick wasn't reluctant as he hugged his friend back.

"I can't believe you're here…I…I thought you were-." He could hear Bart's voice crack, his arms only tightening around him. Dick frowned at that, thinking back to what he had done to his room, the memories he wouldn't allow himself in Nepal, and even the idea…the _knowledge _that Deathstroke was watching him at that very moment.

"I know. I'm sorry. But I'm okay, look." It took him a moment to back out of Bart's arms and extend his arms, letting his ex-teammate get a good look at him. "Still in one piece." Dick smirked and watched Bart wipe at his eye, his lips twitching into a smile but only for a moment.

"Yeah…you are." Another moment and they both continued to study each other, the silence growing unbearable until the speedster finally spoke up. "You look different."

Dick scratched the back of his head at that and lowered his chin. "Yeah…the hair, right?" His mind flashed to Slade for a moment, remembering the way his hand moved through it. _No, not now. There's no time for that._

"Everything." Bart answered, giving Dick another sweep of the eyes that made the boy feel naked, but it was the solemn look on the Flash's face that had given his thoughts away. "No more blue?" he then asked.

"Something like that." Dick replied, looking down at his uniform where he had completely covered his mark.

"I see." Bart stepped forward, his chin low as if disappointed. "No more Nightwing, then?" He was blunt, but Dick expected nothing less, and he wouldn't lie, nor would he sweeten anything.

"Listen, Bart...lets do this somewhere else. Grab something to eat...catch up." The boy suggested, stepping forward and smiling hesitantly. Flash crossed his arms at that, and Dick could see he wanted to say 'yes', but-

"After the Titans get here. They're on their way, everyone wants to see for themselves. We have a lot of questions." Of course, the speedster had always been the first to arrive, he should have known the rest would be coming to find him.

"Of course you do." Dick narrowed his eyes and scoffed. "I guess I'll be going myself then." But before he could take another step, Bart stood in his way.

"I can't let you leave." Bart gave Dick a hard look, and it was almost disturbing the way the boy had gone from happy to see his friend, to remembering why he had left in the first place. And that made him angry.

"You aren't going to stop me. I may have founded the titans, but I'm done with them. I don't answer to them, or anyone." Dick scowled, his fists clenched and his eyes narrowed. He wished he had his mask on then, for he was sure the rage that filled his blue hues would burn the skin of the speedster. Bart was taken back by this, his own brows raising and his lips parting.

"We're just…we're your _friends, _Dick. We're just concerned…I mean… we thought you were _dead. _Something must have happened, right? It's been six months…hell it's been a _year _since we've even talked."

"Friends? So I _need _to stay here and I _have _to answer questions because we're friends?" Dick thought back to Nepal then, and realized how much he'd rather be there in that moment, warm bed or not. He didn't want to deal with this. He had forgotten about all of them and now it was flooding back to him full on. What he had also realized, was with the hostility hanging in the air above them, he knew if he had continued his harsh words, one thing would lead to another…

The boy was in no shape to fight, and that was clear in his mind. Malnourished, exhausted, and his mind in havoc over Slade's words, there was no way he would walk out in any better shape, especially not if the titans were on their way. With a sigh, Dick rubbed at his temples before looking to Bart once more.

"Listen…we can talk, I promise. But not now. I'm not ready. There's just so much to explain…the others will understand. I'm not going anywhere anytime soon." The boy put on his best mask then, hiding the rage boiling inside of him. But Bart wasn't entirely convinced, only enough for him to look away in thought.

"If it was me…or someone else…you would stop at nothing to find out what happened." His friend then said, throwing Dick off who felt a tinge of guilt in that moment, his eyes looking to the floor.

_Maybe. Maybe before._

"I'm sorry, Bart. I have to go." And just as the boy suspected, the speedster did not come after him when he ran down the tower and out onto the island. His eyes shifted anxiously, watching the sky as he mounted his jet ski, being sure that no other members were in sight as he drove away.

In the tower, Bart had paced the room, fighting with himself and debating whether or not to run after the Boy Wonder. The titans wouldn't be happy when they arrived, but Bart was more concerned with what he had witnessed. It was hard to believe the young man he had just encountered was Dick Grayson. Not only did he not look the part…but the look in his eyes, the feelings he was radiating…none of it had felt right.

"Where is he?" Wondergirl inquired from behind, the Flash not having heard anyone behind him as he was lost in his thoughts. Beast Boy stepped forward then with his arms folded across his chest.

"He was here. Not too long ago either." Bart gave them a nod before letting out a heavy breath.

"Yeah…he didn't want to talk. There was something…_way_ off about him." Bart replied with a bit of resentment, his arms crossing.

"Did he at least say why he was here?" Garfield asked, only to be answered with a frown.

"I didn't even get the chance to ask. I mean…he said he was okay. He looked okay. It was just…weird." With a sigh, Cassandra turned to Beast Boy.

"I'll inform Cyborg and Raven…perhaps one of them has gotten in touch with Starfire by now." With a nod, the green-skinned boy moved to Flash and placed a hand on his shoulder.

"Don't worry, man. Dick is probably just going through one of his…_funk's." _Bart nodded, but they hadn't seen their leader. They didn't get the sick and uneasy feeling that he had.

"Where's Robin?" The Flash suddenly asked, his brows furrowed at the absence of one of their members.

"Playing Batman at the moment." but Garfield's eyes went wide when Tim cleared his throat from behind them.

"Well, you weren't wrong." Tim smirked, his arms folded as he looked at his team. But the smirk quickly vanished as he dropped his arms and looked towards the hallway lined with rooms. "I think maybe you guys should see this."

They were then lead towards Dick's room, where it was obvious Tim had gone through first upon entering the tower, checking for anything out of place. The titan's were then staring into the destroyed bedroom, a frightening silence thick between them.

"Was there a fight?" Cassandra asked, crouching down and picking up one of the paper clippings from the ground.

"It doesn't seem that way. The marks on the wall, the destruction of the table…it doesn't suggest that there was another person." Robin explained, his own eyes shifting around the room.

"You're saying he did this _himself_? Just… because?" Bart asked in shock, stepping into the room and taking a look for himself.

"This isn't exactly the first time." Beast Boy then said, his features turning serious. "Take a look around the room…it's plastered with Deathstroke. How many years did Nightwing lock himself away trying to hunt the guy down?" Wondergirl nodded in agreement.

"Cyborg mentioned this to me a while ago. Do you think Dick snapped again? Went on another hunt and turned up…unsuccessful?" The blonde asked, searching her teammates who didn't seem to have a straight answer.

"It's hard to say." Tim finally spoke. "Dick never really spoke about it to anyone. Batman and I were convinced that once he had left Jump, he had put it behind him."

Beast Boy frowned at that, bringing one of the articles closer so that he could get a better view of the masked man they had fought all too often. "You guys never saw him that way. If you had…you'd understand that Dick was _never _going to put it behind him. The guy haunted all of us…but Dick…" Tim could see the look on Garfield's face, and with a few strides he stood before him.

"I'll talk to him." And with that, he gave Beast Boy a small smirk and the article from him.

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><p>Dick was taking full advantage of the shower when he had returned to his apartment, leaning against the cool tiles and letting the hot water massage his skin. His mind was racing, thinking back to the stressful events he had already endured with his first day back. It had only been a few hours, and already he wanted to leave. It was nice to forget everyone, to not worry about anything else but food and survival. Even Slade, who he was still having trouble pinning. Not even the scolding hot water could wash away the feeling of his hands, and Dick couldn't understand why. It wasn't a bad feeling…far from it…but why had it made him so weak? So vulnerable? Another twist in his stomach and he couldn't help but think of the months before, the way the man had saved him, spoke to him, <em>stretched <em>him…

_Stop…what are you thinking?_

Slade had constantly been on his mind ever since the day they had met, yet now, it was different. The man was filling his dreams and thoughts in ways he had never expected. And he wanted to hate himself for it, he wanted to hate the man, but he couldn't bring himself to do it. Not when it seemed the mercenary was playing along…implying things that only confirmed the boy's thoughts. With a groan at himself that echoed through the shower, he shut the water off and stepped out, drying his hair and toweling down his body before pulling on a pair of black briefs. Even as he combed his hair in the mirror, he couldn't remove the image of Slade doing the same back in the hotel, forcing him to throw down his comb and walk out of the bathroom where he froze.

He could feel a shift in the air on his bare skin, and his heart fluttered for a moment, wondering if the assassin was the presence he was feeling. But it became evidently clear that it was not him as he took another step into his bedroom. How long had he trained himself to feel Batman's presence?

"I guess Bart didn't pass on the message?" Dick asked over his shoulder, turning to see Robin with his arms folded, watching him silently.

"He did, I just ignored it." The boy didn't so much as smirk while he spoke, and although his mask covered his eyes, Dick could tell that he was taking in his appearance, just as Bart had done. "But he was right…you look different. What happened?"

Rolling his eyes, Dick moved to his bed and threw back the covers before sitting on the edge. "I went soul-searching." Dick replied sarcastically. "And after six months, figured out I just needed a change in hairstyle."

Tim scoffed at that. "I'd believe you, and I'm sure a small part of that is true…but I saw your room back at the tower. It raised some questions."

Dick frowned at that. They were both trained detectives, and Dick could only imagine what Robin had been able to piece together. "Your relationship with Deathstroke is well-known, Dick…Batman and I…we thought you were good. We thought it was over. Listen…we both wore these colors, we have both answered to the same man. I consider you my brother…and when you disappeared…I couldn't help but think the worse. I mourned for you, Dick." The young man frowned more, his chin lowered as a small battle stirred within him.

_I didn't think once of you, Tim. I couldn't. I'm sorry._

The guilt was heavier this time, but he thought back to Slade which kept him grounded. The man was right, there was a point in leaving. There was a point in forgetting everything. "And seeing you here…now…alive…I don't care that you look different, I just care that you're alive. And I care about what drove you away…I just need you to tell me. When I saw your room, when I saw all of those articles…I mean, what else am I supposed to think? It's been years, Grayson-."

"You think…this is about _him?" _Dick suddenly asked, his brows furrowing. It had then occurred to him what the boy was getting at it. "You think I have some sick obsession? No…no you and everyone else. You all thought that I had some problem because I worked hard in hunting down a man who caused destruction to _everyone._"

"Worked hard? Dick that's putting it _lightly. _You had a problem, everyone else could see it. What else am I supposed to think when you disappear and come home only to return to the very city and destroy the room that has his mask plastered all over it!?"

Dick got to his feet then, his fists clenched and face red. "_Problem_?! The problem was that Batman trained me to hunt down the enemy! To never stop, to never settle. But I was young then, Tim. I didn't realize that whether I beat the man or not, it wasn't _ever _going to make a difference. I didn't_ leave_ because I was hunting down some ghost from the past, I left because I was trying to undo _everything _that made me that way!"

Tim stared at Dick in utter silence, his eyes wide at the young man with grit teeth and chest swelling with rage. He could see it now, what Bart had been speaking about. But why? If it wasn't Deathstroke…then what? Could he truly resent Batman so much?

"Bart was right." Tim then said, taking a step back. The boy was not about to argue, especially as it seemed he knew nothing of the situation. "You _have_ changed." With a turn of his heel, Robin began walking towards the door, his chest tightening as he wished it was all a dream. The boy he had looked up to, who he had seen as a brother, was close to nothing but a stranger.

"Good, that was the point." Dick muttered as Tim walked out and slammed the door.

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><p>Dick had hardly found sleep that night, despite his exhaustion and the comfort of his bed. His blood continued to pump dangerously with the anger peaked inside of him. He wanted to move, to train, to get it out of his system, but all he could do was lay in bed and stare at the ceiling. The only thoughts that seemed to calm him slightly was the ideas of what the mercenary would be teaching him the next day. And before he knew it, the sun was rising, and he had finally found sleep. Although when he had awoken, his eyes heavy with exhaustion, he realized there was no time to eat or shower as he was going to be late for his first session. Throwing the covers off of him, he stumbled towards the closet, pulling on a pair of black pants and a white tank top, knowing there was no way he was touching his Nightwing uniform.<p>

On his way to the tower, he slowly began to remember the events of the night before, with both Bart and Tim. He was certain he would be hearing about it from Deathstroke, but hoped they would just focus on training, as there was a lot of anger needing to be released. And yet again, as if the man could read minds, Deathstroke commented on it immediately as the boy walked into the underground compound.

"I see my _orders_ on sleep and nutrition were ignored." The comment was lighthearted, but Dick knew he was a man that did not like being disobeyed.

"It was a long night." The boy muttered, dropping his gym bag on the floor and taking off his boots before pulling a pair of sneakers out. As he was bending down to pull them on, a large hand was felt beneath his jaw, forcing him to look up at the assassin who was dressed in black pants and a long sleeved shirt where the sleeves were folded at the elbows.

"I can see that. Perhaps I should make a cot for you _here_." The man teased, letting go of his jaw. "_Less_ visitors."

Dick smirked and kneeled to tie his laces. "After last night, I'd _gladly_ take you up on that."

"Perhaps._ If _you're good." Dick smiled at that, glancing up at Slade before working on his other shoe. "I see you've ditched the uniform?"

"It was too tight." The boy muttered.

"That's a _poor_ excuse." The man retorted, folding his arms and burning his eyes into the boy who let out a sigh.

"Well it is. And I'm_ not _Nightwing. He was a different person. One I'm_ trying_ to forget." The boy explained, feeling his blood begin to boil yet again at the thought as he turned to put his boots into his gym bag.

"Hm, I don't think it is too _wise_ to forget him completely. It is _his _mistakes you will be learning from. Starting with turning your _back_ to your opponent." Blue eyes went wide as he went to turn around, just in time to duck the kick that had flown at his face. The rush of adrenaline forced a smirk onto Dick's lips, his fists clenching as he prepared himself.

"I think my first mistake was agreeing to learn under someone who fights_ dirty_." The boy replied, ducking another kick that had brushed his cheek, but not the cross that sent him flying backwards.

"Actually, your first mistake was not_ coming_ to me sooner." Grunting at the the pain throbbing in his chest from the blow, the boy forced a smirk and got to his feet. "Bit _rusty_, aren't you? Or did you happen to spar with the _wildlife_-." Slade ducked his kick and blocked the second one, amusement beginning to dance in his one eye.

"No." The boy began, moving back and forth with the man, ducking, sliding, blocking, trying his best to avoid the strikes of the assassin, all the while trying to find an opening. "Besides, I may be rusty, but I spent _years_ studying your techniques." _There, an opening. _And as he swung his first towards the man's jaw, nearly connecting with it, at the last second, Slade moved his head out of the way, grabbing his shoulder and wrist. With Dick's momentum and a sharp turn of his body, the boy was thrown over his shoulder and down onto the padded floor where Slade's knee pressed his face into the mat.

"Not _all _of them, it seems." When the man finally moved off of the boy, he rubbed his face where the knee had been, staring up at the mercenary who held his hand out. Suddenly feeling discouraged by the way he was being thrown around, and only within a few minutes, Dick let out a breath and frowned.

"So this is what a signed up for, then? Fighting you until I learn something?" The boy grumbled as he took the man's hand and allowed himself to be pulled to his feet.

"Don't be so sore, boy. But you _are_ going to wish you were fighting me when I'm through with you." At that, he walked further onto the mat, the boy following hesitantly as he kept the words in mind. "You've filled out, yes, learned survival, and more importantly, you've found a spiritual comfort and state of mind for yourself. But your body has been weakened. For you to learn what I have to offer, we need to fix your foundation and build you up." It was then that Slade pulled out a small device, the lights suddenly flooded the compound, showing the full training courses that seemed slightly familiar to what the Titans had used. Dick had no doubt Slade had taken some of the designs for himself.

"So the basics then?" Richard asked, nearly scoffing. "You do remember that I _lead _the Titans, right? Was trained by _Batman_?" Slade raised his brow at that.

"Are you suggesting that what I haven't even revealed to you, will be too _easy_?" The man asked dangerously, though Dick folded his arms and stared at the ropes hanging from the ceiling, the balancing poles, the large tires, and the multiple other obstacles around the floor.

"Nothing can be worse than what I've gone through." But the boy learned quickly that Slade did not bode well with challenges, and wished he had shut up while he had the chance when the man let out a chuckle.

"We'll see about _that_."

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><p><strong>I feel like this is a bit of a weak chapter. My mind is already on future events and I've already written some chapters far in advance that are way more exciting than this, so I apologize if it's not my best! And as always, reviews are welcomed! <strong>


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N: So sorry for the long wait! Work has been crazy, and I don't like writing unless I'm inspired which has only been just recently, and you will soon find out due to the length! Anyway, thanks to all of my reviewers and those who have favorited/followed my story! Again, that is just inspiration alone! Also, quick warning for this chapter, it's going to be a bit graphic and I suppose dark. Basically, the two things I love writing haha. Anyway, enjoy and let me know what you think!**

**Also yes, I totally did change the title of this story after writing this chapter. Just a heads up!**

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><p><em>If I fall, they'll catch me.<em>

A distant crowd was roaring. Bright lights burned his skin. Blue hues shifted below to see the black abyss beneath him. Were they cheering him on to fall in? The darkness laughed at his thoughts, taunting him, screaming at him, beckoning and deceiving the young boy who stood over the world.

_If I fall, they'll catch me._

His small hands moved over his glittering uniform. He was just a boy, why did they want him to jump? But the crowd couldn't be heard anymore, only the pounding of his heart, the weight of his breathing. He shuffled backwards onto the platform, his hands finding the pole and clutching to it for dear life. "Mom?" the boy called out, closing his eyes, knowing they would surely not leave him alone. Not when everyone below them wanted him to jump. They wouldn't let him jump, would they? But there was nothing to be heard in return. "Dad?" his voice cracked then, he could feel his eyes beginning to burn. _They're gone, aren't they? _No…no he couldn't go there. He couldn't believe that. Couldn't accept it.

"Dick?" The sweet sound of his mother's voice tickled his ear then, and immediately his eyes went wide, darting to the direction of the sound. His soft orbs then saw both his mother and father, standing and smiling on the opposite end, a fly bar hanging between them. His heart leapt, but as he stepped away from the pole, the other seemed to only move further. His breath hitched as he looked down once again, the darkness whispering his name, the invisible crowd slowly beginning to roar yet again. Flashing his eyes back to his parents, they continued to smile at him, their hands raising and waving around them.

"Just like practice, Dick." His father assured him. "If you fall, we'll catch you."

_If I fall, they'll catch me. _

His hands trembled slightly as he stared at the flying bar. Not wanting to disappoint his parents, he took in a deep breath and stood at the end of the board. His chest out, his fists clenched, ignoring the crowd, ignoring the black abyss. It was only them. And with a deep spring of his legs, he leapt out into the air, a wide smile growing on his lips. He had forgotten how much he loved flying. Everything felt still in that moment, his heart had stopped just as he grabbed onto the bar and swung forward. His parents continued to smile as he began taking deep swings. But the timing wasn't right, he needed more momentum. And as he kicked his legs back, feeling his back tear through the thick air behind him, his lips parted at the sight before him. His parents were falling. The crowd cheered loud.

"No!" he shouted, finding his strength and kicking forward as if he had seen the same thing before. As if hew knew how to save them. And yet…there was something stopping him. Something that stopped him from flying off of the bar. Instead, his legs swung through his arms, hooking onto the bar and extending his arms and back to grab hold of his falling mother's hands. _I can catch you. _He wanted to say. But he would be a liar, as his small hands failed to grab hold of the dead weight that dropped before him. Tears clouded his eyes as he hung upside down, still stretching his hands to reach for the woman who was quickly taken by the blackness along with his father.

"Mom!" He cried, and the instant he felt himself stretch to far, when he felt his knees slip ever so slightly, he sprung his torso back up and clung to the bar. Swinging slowly back and forth, tears running down his sticky cheeks, until he was just swaying slowly. The boy sobbed, trying his best not to envision his parents, but it was all he could see. "I'm sorry." he choked out. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry."

"What did I tell you about _crying?" _A deep voice growled from below him. His eyes squeezed tighter, just as his arms and legs did around the bar. "I won't allow you to_ grieve_. I won't allow you to become _weak."_ The voice barked again. Opening his red eyes, the boy hesitantly looked over his shoulder, to see who had been speaking to him.

"I…I want them back." the boy sobbed once again, as if hoping this voice had the power to do so.

"They _aren't_ coming back. You need to _accept _this." More tears fell, and all Dick could do was clutch the bar, trying to shake the voice away.

"No…_no_…who's going to catch me?" And it was then that a snapping sound was heard, and before the boy knew it, he was falling through the air.

"No one. You will depend only on yourself." As the boy fell through the dark abyss, winged creatures swarmed around him. Bats, screeching and scraping his bare arms as they flew past him. The boy screamed but could hear nothing over the flapping of wings. He knew the ground was coming up soon. He could almost feel it on his back. But before he did, a large hand grabbed his ankle.

Startled, Dick shot up in a panic, his eyes wide, his body covered in sweat. Panting as if he had only just started breathing; he slowly began to realize that the dark images rolling in his mind were only a dream. A dream he had not had since he left for Nepal. It was the same one that haunted his sleep ever since that night at the circus. Swallowing hard, he moved his hand to his forehead, pushing back his damp hair and realizing that there were tears in his eyes. Growling, he wiped at them and threw the covers off. He could hear Batman's voice in his head, telling him not to cry, not to give in to the emotion. It was the only order he'd always obeyed. As his heart beat started to slow from its race, he kicked his feet over the side of the bed and leaned over his knees, rubbing his head and feeling the rising sun on his back. The movement made him wince, feeling the blow in his side where Slade had kicked him the night before.

It had been a month since he had come home, and Dick only ever found himself training. If he had known what was expected of him, he would have taken advantage of the free time he had in Nepal. A small smirk was forced onto his lips as he thought back to his first night training under Deathstroke. Challenging his techniques and methods was only but one mistake he had learned that night.

"The _slower_ you are, the_ longer_ you'll be here." The man would warn him as the boy pulled himself up on a bar, growling as he fought against his burning muscles. _Three more_, the boy would tell himself, as he dropped back down, hanging by his hands before pulling himself up yet again. But his arms gave out, and the boy fell onto the ground, groaning as he rolled onto his knees and elbows, breathing heavily. Afraid to look at the man, his blue hues were hesitant to look up, but he forced himself to and saw Slade's face which looked more than displeased.

"Take a lap. And when you're done, you start _again_." Dick's jaw dropped at that, letting out a wheeze in reluctance.

"What? You…you _must _be crazy! I can _hardly_ move my-." He could hardly _see _the kick before he was laid out on the ground, his head spinning and his jaw throbbing. Letting out a weak groan as he tried to push himself up, a hand was felt at the back of his neck, pinning him back down onto the ground. His hazy eyes could see the man's other hand planted on the ground, pressing his weight down onto the boy's neck as his head leaned close.

"When I give you an order, _boy_, you _obey_ it. And if you _don't_, then we will do it _my _way. Now, I'm going to pretend you_ didn't _just open your mouth and question me. So, when I let go, you're going to stand up, you're going to take _two _laps, and when you're finished, you're going to get on that bar and start from _one_. Am I**_ clear_**?" The boy's pain had never fled so quickly, as fear was instilled within him. Slade might have saved him and shown him a different path, but he was still the same, menacing Deathstroke. He was powerful, and he did not like his power questioned. Dick learned that fast. And when the man let go, he forced himself to his feet and set off into a run.

"_Good boy." _

Dick frowned at the memory, remembering the moment Slade had dismissed him, he nearly crawled out of the tower, swearing the man up and down, promising himself he would never return. Yet when he stumbled through his door and sat in a numbing ice bath, he couldn't help but smile to himself. It was different. Nothing like Batman, who wasn't exactly any easier. But Slade knew what Dick wanted, the moves, the reflexes, the skill, and the boy knew that a foundation was needed for those things. And there was no doubt that one needed to be built. The next day, the boy was certain that his body was going to be abused yet again, and the pain and swollen joints from the day before had already been making him nauseous.

He hated being right in that moment, although Slade was somewhat reasonable, forcing only cardio exercises that day. And the next, until the man was able to squeeze his arm without the boy wincing. The week was long, the hours, even minutes, seemed to drag as his body was constantly put to the test. And although he learned to obey the man's orders, no matter how ludicrous, failure did not exempt the boy from punishment.

"On your_ feet_, Grayson." Deathstroke growled as he stalked towards the boy who had tripped mid-sprint. Wheezing and trying to catch his breath, the boy clawed at the ground, his body and mind in a panic as he knew he needed to get up.

"I can't…I can't…Slade _please_…" the boy begged, _begged, _as the man was getting closer, and the boy was still on his knees, wanting nothing more than to lay down.

"I said-." A large hand grabbed the front of his shirt, picking him up with ease. "On. Your. _Feet_." And as the man set Dick down onto the balls of his feet, his free hand swung hard at his face. "I will _not_ tolerate failure." Another cross to his face, and another, and all Dick could do was hold on weakly to the man's wrist that help him up. When he could feel a small tear in his cheek where blood began to leak, the boy was thrown to the ground. A black haze threatened to consume him, tempting him into a deep sleep. But the blurry sight of the towering man pushed those thoughts away. A lazy and heavy blink of his eyes, and as he opened them once again, Slade was crouched before him, his one grey eye studying the battered boy.

"Hm, I imagine this is the same boy that leopard saw all those months ago. _Weak. Frail_. On the verge of_ breaking_. Even _I _am fighting the urge to finish you." And despite Dick's current vision, he could see the hunger in the mercenary's eye, and knew that the man was not bluffing. "I'm disappointed,_ little bird_." There it was. The words Dick had feared the most. The feeling that kept him going through the hardest times in Nepal. He didn't want to disappoint the man who promised to help him, who assured the boy that he would have all that he wanted. When the man walked away, the boy frowned, wanting to cry as the tears threatened his eyes. But he fought them back. _No crying. _Batman's voice barked at him.

And with every ounce of strength he had left, he fought against the fatigue, the pain, the swollen limbs, and forced himself up. A stumble at first, but when he finally gathered himself, he set off into a slow run. Slade had paused, folding his arms against his chest as he watched the boy, certain that he was going to end the session there. But he ran. And though it wasn't at his best performance, he finished his laps, collapsing onto the ground when he was finished. A smirk then pulled at the assassin's lips, his hand finding his beard and stroking it.

The next day, after the boy had iced his face and avoided the mirror, he learned something more important than failure and punishment. He learned that success would be _rewarded. _

When Dick Grayson had entered the compound, his face bruised and his body throbbing, his eyes were lowered in defeat. He wondered why he kept coming back, as the one week of training had only been hell from the start. Setting down his bag, he looked up to see that the area had been cleared of any courses or equipment. When his bright blue orbs fell on the man standing calmly in a uniform similar to that of his mercenary gear, he knew that the day would be different. Slade seemed to be wearing a mock outfit, a tight black suit with an orange utility belt and black combat boots. Orange straps rounded over and under his shoulders, a harness for his guns but it was no firearm that they carried. A grappling gun, it seemed. Dick was hesitant to move any closer, as his mind slowly began putting the pieces together.

_Are we going to fight? _He was alarmed, as there was no way he'd survive in the state that he was in. Slade's snicker made the boy recoil.

"You should learn not to _wear_ what you're _thinking_." the man then said, smirking and uncrossing his arms. "You impressed me yesterday, boy. I thought, as a _reward_, we would do something a little different today. Something…_fun." _It was then that the man pointed to one side of the compound where a yellow flag hung high on the ceiling, protected by large steel beams. "That's my flag. You capture it, bring it over that line," he pointed to the opposite side where a bright red line marked the floor, "You win."

Dick stood there, puzzled as he looked at both the flag and the man. "I…I don't understand…we aren't going to…fight?" The boy asked, knowing that the 'game' seemed too good to be true.

Slade chuckled. "No, not this time. Besides, I think I've done enough damage to that pretty face of yours, _haven't I_?" Dick went red at that, though he thanked the yellow and purple hiding it on his cheeks. "Just a simple game really. No weapons, no strikes."

"What happens if I lose?" The boy was still reluctant, not allowing himself to believe the man just yet.

The man shrugged, "Then you lose. No penalty. It's just a game, Dick, I promise. A reward." And as silly as it seemed, the boy believed him then. The man had always kept his word, and he would not question it. A small smirk then pulled at the corner of his mouth as he stepped forward.

"Okay, and what if I _win?_" Slade chuckled again and walked backwards towards the flag.

"I _admire_ your confidence. I suppose a day off is fair, do you agree?" A day off? Dick fell in love with the idea, a day of rest, a warm bath. He wasn't aware of the nodding of his head in approval, but Slade's smirk was obvious proof that he had done it.

"Well come on then, boy. Come _play_." And as if all of his pain, all of the suffering, the beating, the running had never happened, he sprinted at the man with a dark grin on his lips. Leaping into the air, he soared over the assassin and made his way towards the wall where he was able to grab onto the lowest beam, climbing his way up.

Dick snickered at the image, thinking back on every single mistake had made during that day and shaking his head. It helped him forget about the nightmare as he made his way through his morning routine.

The boy's adrenaline was through the roof as the flag was in sight, hopping from beam to beam, forgetting about the man entirely. And that was his mistake, as a heavy weight suddenly smashed into him, forcing him to plummet to the ground where Slade had pinned him just before picking him up by the shirt.

Dick's eyes screamed panic. "Now now, you didn't think it would be_ that _easy, did you?" with that, the man growled and hauled the boy across the room, watching him slide until he nearly touched the red line. The boy smiled though as he stood up, shaking off his first loss.

They spent hours going at it, jumping, leaping, flying through the beams of the ceiling as if it were their own web. It was challenging, but fun, as Dick had smiled nearly the whole time. It seemed the mercenary felt the same, without even breaking a sweat as he kept the boy away. Even as the two fell to the ground, the boy couldn't help but enjoy fighting the man off as he tried pinning the boy, keeping him in deathly holds until he couldn't even squirm, forcing him to submit. Dick didn't come close to winning that day, and as the sun began to set, the man turned off the timer and walked over to the boy who was on his back and catching his breath.

"Times up." The assassin spoke, towering over him. Dick frowned and looked to where the digital clock was on the wall. He hadn't realized how long it had been.

"Already?" He was disappointed, and for the first time he wished he _had _been forced to stay longer. Picking himself up, he wiped at his forehead and looked up at the man who still, seemed as if all he did was sit on the side.

"Yes. You did well, Dick. Hopefully I've _proven_ that it's in _your_ benefit to do well during training." The man then said, a hint of warning in his voice. "And you have proved that despite injury and fatigue, you _can _preform. I expect that of you _every _time."

Dick blushed at that, dropping his chin as he suddenly felt guilty for being so weak within their sessions. Slade was quick to not allow the boy to break his gaze, his fingers forcing the Dick's chin to rise gently. "Continue to comply, and perhaps I will give you another chance at a day off." The man then said with a smirk, blue eyes lighting up as they glanced over at the small flag that continued to hang.

"I will. I promise."

Dick began stretching under the hot water, his muscles stiff but no longer in agony. The man had worked him hard, and it was beginning to pay off. He could feel himself getting stronger, moving quicker, and even thinking differently. He was eager to start fighting, to start learning, which the mercenary had promised he would deliver after his well-deserved day off. Once he had stepped out of the shower, he looked into the mirror where the bruising on his eye was faint then. He frowned at that. Batman certainly never used pain as a punishment. Dick wondered if it was a good or bad thing. But he wouldn't question Slade, especially as the man had mainly kept his hands off of him as of late, considering his progress.

In fact, after that day Dick's training had done a complete one-eighty. When he walked into the compound, he was determined, ready to do whatever the man asked in hopes that they would play their little game again. Slade was not blind to the boy's new attitude, and was sure to give the boy smaller rewards for smaller things. Longer water breaks, longer stretching time, and once the man had even allowed the boy to use the course as he pleased for the last hour. At the end of that second week, Dick was allowed another chance at the yellow flag.

"Ha!" The boy couldn't stop his excitement as his hand wrapped around the triangular piece of plastic, letting his body fly to the ground with the red line in his sights. Sprinting as fast as he could, his heart pounding with eagerness as his day off was only a few yards away. With a wide grin on his face, the boy leapt, diving towards the red line with the flag in hand. But as his hand was just about to go over, a hand was felt at his ankle, yanking him back with an unbelievable force. A gasp escape him as he landed on his stomach, his arms clawing at the ground as he was desperate to pass the line. But the weight of the man straddling him stopped him from moving anywhere. Growling in annoyance, Dick slammed his fists into the ground and grit his teeth, huffing as the man turned him onto his back and pinned his wrists above his head, smirking wickedly at him.

"I was_ tempted_ to let you win, but the idea of you _pouting_ as you were only_ inches_ away was too promising to pass up." The man mocked, chuckling as he continued to hold the squirming boy down.

"I want another go." The boy demanded, his brows furrowing together. But Slade's grip only tightened, his face leaning down slightly.

"Hm, I wonder, is that annoyance or _anger _that I hear, boy? If I teach you but one thing, it is to _never_ let your emotions control you." His voice was serious then, and so was the look in his eye that forced Dick to look away, frowning. The game's fun was slowly fading as the boy was constantly failing. All he wanted was to win. To impress the man and to move on to something different. Clearly his approach wasn't working, and perhaps that was the point. He needed to work differently.

"I'm sorry." he whispered, his eyes still looking away as he felt the stone cold grey one burning into his skin. After a few moments, Slade finally released his wrists and rose to his feet, flag in hand.

"Get some rest." The mercenary ordered. "You're going to _need_ it."

And the boy did need it, as the next few days proved as punishment for something as little as a remark the man didn't like. He began asking himself why he was putting himself through it all yet again. What was he gaining besides his 'foundation' which was building too slow in his mind. It wasn't until a few days later when he had been sprinting under Slade's watch that he _did _learn something. Stepping down on his foot the wrong way, his ankle gave out beneath him, and to reduce injury, he forced his body to collapse onto the ground, a deep grunt escaping his throat.

The mercenary was beside him instantly, something that took Dick by surprise. His strong hand was felt on his ankle, pressing down on it. "You were smart not to let it roll beneath you." the man commented, his fingers then working on the boy's shoelaces, pulling the shoe and sock off so that both his hands could work on the soft skin. "It's not swelling, but you should tend to it." the man then said, his thumb rubbing at the sore spot beneath his ankle bone. Dick's eyes were glued to the man's concentrated features. "Perhaps I've been working you _too_ hard, boy." The man suggested, his eye flicking up to catch Dick's gaze. He had been staring at Slade, completely mesmerized by the way his hands worked on his ankle. Flustered by his look, the boy then shook his head.

"No, but I think maybe I need to change my warm-up." The boy offered, knowing that if he played his cards just right…

"Perhaps. Regardless, our training is finished for today. Get some rest." And Dick obeyed the man, his smile wicked as he walked into his apartment. A plan slowly began forming in his mind. He knew what the next day would bring, but he acted surprised when the man offered the challenge once again. And just like the other hundreds of times, he failed, letting himself get thrown around by the mercenary who wouldn't let him near the plastic flag. Not until the man let him swipe it for his own amusement, just like the last time. Dick let out a laugh as the flag was crushed in his palm, his feet carrying him over the beams until he made a mistake. His foot tripped over one of the steel poles, forcing him to plummet to the ground ungracefully, a cry of pain echoing the room as he grabbed his ankle, his teeth gritting as he curled up on the ground.

Slade kneeled before him, his features twisted with annoyance and concern. "I _knew _the ankle would be a problem." He muttered, his hands wrapping around the boy and helping him to his feet. But the boy winced and clutched at Slade, forcing the man to help carry his weight off of the course and to the side where he set the boy down and began working on his shoe yet again. But Dick didn't know what to do then, as a smile grew wide on his lips, and excitement fluttering around in his stomach. Tempted to laugh, all he could do was place his hand on the man's shoulder, forcing the mercenary to look over at him. The boy held up the flag then, watching as the man's lips parted, his eye looking over to the red line he had helped him cross. Dick didn't know what to expect then as he watched the man come to the realization of what he had just done. A smirk then formed on Slade's lips as he turned back to the boy, his hand releasing his ankle.

"Well look at that, who knew the little bird could play _dirty_?" Dick still didn't say anything, not wanting to jeopardize his accomplishment. The man then rose to his feet, crossing his arms as he looked at the course, as if truly piecing together what had just happened. His smirk was gone and in that moment Dick was worried that perhaps he didn't play fair, that perhaps he didn't truly earn anything.

"I'm…I'm sorry." The boy then said, getting to his feet and handing the flag back to Slade, guilt beginning to weigh down in his chest. The man's brow furrowed at the boy.

"You're apologizing for _what?_ Out-thinking me?"

"No- I just-."

"Don't like the feeling of _winning_?" The man smiled and pushed the flag back to the boy. "You won. It was _fair_. You've impressed me yet again, Dick. I think now we can build on that foundation of yours." And those words were enough to light up his eyes. "That is of course,_ after _your day off."

Dick smiled at the sight of the yellow flag on his desk, his prize from only a week ago. Although he would savor his day of rest, he couldn't help but feel eager to return. When the man expected him to take the next day off, he explained that there was a particular date the next week that he was saving it for. The anniversary of his parent's deaths. The mercenary obliged his wishes, and the week leading up to it had flown by. With a new confidence, the boy tore through the underground course, hardly feeling fatigue by the end of their sessions. He felt good, and even better when he caught the man staring at him with approval. _In general. _The boy corrected his inner thoughts, his smile quickly fading at the ideas that had been filling his head ever since Nepal. The words he had thought the man spoke haunted him, and he couldn't deny that he trained better when the mercenary trained along side him.

Dick blushed and shook the thoughts away as he slowly began to dress himself. He had always worn a suit to visit his parents, but the jeans and leather jacket would have to suffice as most of clothes had been packed away. The boy had decided it was best to move on to a different location, as he had been paranoid every moment he stepped into his apartment, expecting Barbara, Bruce, Tim…hell, _any _of them to be standing there. He couldn't live that way anymore, and knew that moving on was his best move.

After combing his black hair back and making a quick journey to the florists, he mounted his bike and made his way to Gotham City. The flower stems nearly broke within his hands as he approached the tombstones hours later. Setting them down between the two graves, he sat down and hugged his knees, staring at the letters engraved into the two large stones.

_If I fall, they'll catch me._

Dick wanted to cry. He wanted to cry every single year, but Bruce forbid it. Forbid that the boy grieved and let the sorrow consume him. The man was afraid it would destroy Dick's spirit. That the Robin would become nothing but a crow.

"_You don't speak to them?_" The familiar voice turned his skin pale, and swiftly the boy was on his feet, facing the man behind him.

"S-_Slade_?" Dick felt exposed then as he stared at the man who was wearing a neat black suit just beneath his long black coat. Was he in trouble? Dick began to panic, his chin dipping slightly as if he had been caught doing something bad. "What…what are you doing here?" The boy asked, trying not to let his eyes wander over the man's appearance. He looked different. A _good_ different.

"No need to look so frightened, _little bird_. I'm not here to make you run laps." The man teased as he stepped closer, his eye shifted past Dick and towards the tombstones. "There's a few reasons I'm here, but with knowledge of today's meaning, I simply figured that perhaps you wouldn't want to be alone." The boy wondered if he was hearing things again, but the genuine look on the man's features proved otherwise. It was hard to believe that after all the suffering, all of the work the man had constantly put him through, the mercenary would be meeting him on such a personal level. Dick's eyes shifted back to the graves. He didn't want to be alone, but was the assassin really the best company at the moment? _It's the only company. _Dick reminded himself.

"No. I don't talk to them." The boy then said, answering the man's earlier question. "They're _dead_. They can't hear me." Dick added solemnly, turning his back to Slade who raised his brow in surprise.

"_That_ is the bat talking." The man replied, moving closer so that his large hand could slide over the boy's shoulder, gripping it firmly.

"Are your parents dead?" The boy asked, ignoring the comment about Bruce and looking up at the man.

"Yes." he replied.

"Do you speak to them?" Slade chuckled at the question, squeezing Dick's shoulder once again.

"No. We didn't have much of a relationship." The man answered dryly, watching the boy look back at the graves and frown. "But I speak to my friend William." Dick's eyes lit up at that, moving back to the mercenary's face.

"William?"

"An old friend who has followed me into _every_ battle, just as I have followed him. He passed two years ago." Dick couldn't help but think back to that time, as he had been in the process of leaving the Titans. A year where Deathstroke and scarcely made an appearance…and the boy wondered if perhaps this was the reason. "He was a wise old man, constantly in my ear, warning me, guiding me, and half the time _interrogating_ me." Slade looked to Dick then and smirked. "It wasn't until he died that I finally wanted to talk with him. To answer all the damn questions he bombarded me with. I suppose, in a way, its how I _honor_ him." The boy couldn't believe what the man was saying, and the way he had opened himself up to Dick.

"'Honor' him?" Dick repeated his brows furrowing. Slade nodded.

"Yes. I know it is something _he_ would appreciate." The man confirmed, his hand sliding from the boy and into his coat pocket.

"Do you think that…speaking to them will honor my parents?" The boy asked, looking to the man with hopeful eyes.

"Perhaps. Although, I do have _another_ suggestion."

Moments later, the boy was entering a sleek black car that was nothing short of Slade's version of a discrete Batmobile. Afraid to touch anything, the boy say in the passenger seat, his fingers clutching his stomach that seemed to be twisting as he inhaled the scent of the car that simply smelled of the assassin beside him. He blushed at that and hoped the man wouldn't notice.

They drove for hours, and Dick had been too afraid to say anything, to break the silence between them. They were headed back to Jump City, but on the outskirts where a rocky desert had welcomed home both the man and the boy. It was amazing to Dick that the man knew where he was going, as they were no longer on any roads, nor were there any signs nearby. The boy allowed himself the time to relax in the leather seat, letting the passing scenery lull him into a deep relaxation. It was only when he felt the car slow down that he opened his eyes once again, the sun nearly set in the sky. The man was driving towards a large metal door that opened as he lifted his hand pressed one of the button's on the ceiling.

"Where are we?" Dick finally asked, shifting in his seat and rubbing at his eye. It wasn't exactly how he pictured spending the day, but how could he complain?

"The training facility that I've built at Titan's tower was only temporary. It's obsolete to you now." the man answered, pulling into the door that closed behind the car. After driving further into the lit tunnel, Dick began to realize where they were going, and his heart began to thud.

"This is-."

"Where I live." The man cut the boy off, coming to a stop as they entered a large garage where different vehicles were lined in perfect order. The whole place was modern, with sleek metal furnishings and high end technology. Bruce came to mind, but the more he looked around the less he could compare the two. Dick got out of the car and followed Slade's lead, staring at the man's powerful back as they walked through the tunnels. It was when one side of the corridor stretched with a thick glass that made the boy stop in his tracks. His lips parted as he looked inside of the bright white room where Slade's masks hung neatly on the wall beside his katanas and other weapons. On one wall was a collection of guns, on the other were swords and daggers. In the center of the room was the man's armor, and before he could get a closer look at anything else, Slade's voice interrupted him.

"There will be time for a tour later, boy. _Come_." The man gave Dick a soft smirk and continued to lead him down a pair of metal stares until they came to a room that made the underground compound at Titan's tower into a kitchen drawer.

"This will be where you train from now on, as well as _stay._" The man then said as Dick stepped further into the large cavern that didn't seem to end. Metal rods decorated the ceiling, along with tight wires and turrets. He could tell by the indents in the floor, the metal doors on the walls, that the now-empty room had many surprises, all controlled by the long metal control station that was mounted on a rock balcony. Dick nearly drooled at his own imagination of what the place was capable of, and at the same time he had still not wrapped his mind around the idea that this was where Slade had lived and trained…and that _he _would be doing the same.

"Again, boy, we'll get to this one later, but for now I want to show you something else." The mercenary nodded towards a larger metal door next to the control station where the boy quickly followed. It was then that they entered a brighter room where what stood before Dick had almost made him drop to his knees.

"A trapeze…" The boy breathed, staring up at the familiar bars and wires, the safety net dipped below them. "I don't understand…" Dick's brows furrowed as he couldn't tear his eyes away, the images of himself up in the air flashing through his mind.

"I built this while you were away. I was surprised to learn that you had not kept up with it ever since your parents passed." The man explained, smirking at his own creation. Dick frowned then.

"I couldn't. All it did was remind me…" Dick took a step back for a moment as the nightmare began creeping back into his mind. The darkness…the crowds cheering…the bats…

"I think that is_ exactly_ what you need, boy. To be reminded. And I can't think of a better way to honor them, than to carry on what they loved to do." Dick couldn't believe the words had come from the man, and when his eyes shifted to look at the mercenary, they widened as he watched Slade begin to take his suit jacket off, as well as his dress shirt. "What? You think I'm just going to_ stand and watch_?" The man teased as he let his shirt drop to the ground, revealing his bare torso.

Dick smiled then. "Have you even _done_ this before?" The boy challenged, taking his own jacket off as well as his shirt, rushing to the metal ladder that he climbed quickly, standing on top of the board and looking across at Slade who grabbed the fly bar and smirked at him.

"You'll have to_ find out_." The man challenged, and with no warning jumped off of the board and swung forward as if he had done is thousands of times. Dick watched with wide eyes as the man then let go of the bar in mid air, twisting himself around until he caught the other side of the bar. With another fluid swing, he moved his legs through his arms and hooked them on the bar. Dick's nerves began freezing his muscles, yet his heart ached to jump out and soar through the air, to forget the mess in his head and body and to break off the lasting chains inside of him. And when the timing was finally right, the boy leapt off of the board and dove into the air, his form nothing sort of perfect. And just as he dipped to dive down into the net, his arms came out and a pair of large hands caught him.

The thrill was unlike anything, and he couldn't stop the smile from growing on his face. As the both swung together, Dick looked up and saw the man looking down at him with a smirk of his own.

Another hard swing and the man let go, allowing Dick to flip into the air.

_If I fall, they'll catch me. _

Dick's hands grabbed onto the fly bar, working his legs into a swing before moving through the air once again and into the hands of Slade. The boy was having the time of his life, forgetting Nepal, forgetting Deathstroke, Batman, the Titans. In that moment, it was only him, and his parents who stood on the boards, watching him, smiling, waving. It was then that something wrenched within the boy, something that made him sick, that made his throat tighten. He was unprepared for the launch Slade then gave him, his body twisting through the air and ready to catch the fly bar. But he couldn't see it, and in a panic his body froze up, free falling into the bats, hearing the crowd cheering, his parents in the distance. But before anything could hit his head, a hand caught his ankle, a grunt was then heard and he realized that Slade had caught him. The boy couldn't think in that moment as tears welled up in his yes, blinding him. The man's arm was felt swaying the boy until he was able to drop him safely onto his back where the safety net welcomed him. Another dip was felt as Slade dropped down as well, watching as the boy turned away and covered his face trying his best to stop the crying.

"I couldn't-." The boy choked, feeling the man's arms come around him, turning him over and pulling him in close. Dick couldn't think straight, all he could see was his parents falling, the way he clung to the bar because no one would help him. "I couldn't save them…I couldn't save them."

"You were just a boy, Dick." Slade's voice was smooth, and the way his arms tightened around his frame encouraged him to burry his face into the man's chest, trembling as he tried fighting off the tears.

"They didn't _deserve_ to die…they didn't _do _anything…I'm _so_ sorry…I'm sorry…I should have saved them…I _should have_-."

And in that moment, Dick Grayson grieved for his parents, cried for them as a child would for his lost parents. The mercenary held the boy and allowed him to get it all out, his hands squeezing at the warm flesh for comfort as he stayed silent, listening to his little bird break down.

"If I fall…If…If I fall…" The boy stuttered, his fingers digging into the man's arms. "They won't…catch me…they can't….If I fall…they can't catch me…If I fall…"

"My dear little bird," Slade then spoke, his hand running up the back of Dick's neck, pushing through his hair and letting it tangle in the thick strands, "You will _never _fall again."

_If I fall…_

**_If _**_I fall…_

_I won't fall._

_I _**_won't _**_fall._

* * *

><p><strong>AN: *Wipes brow* Wow what a roller coaster. Hope you enjoyed, and reviews are always appreciated! **


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